Harry Potter and the Continental Rift
by Pointless Pencil
Summary: The story picks up a few months after the Battle of Hogwarts. Harry has been suspended from the Aurors, after serving with them for a very short time, after the death of his partner. Going cabin crazy with nothing to do, and trapped by his nightmares, Harry jumps at the chance to get away for a bit. What was to be a short term teaching job, turns into something far more.
1. Chapter One: Going to France

**Chapter One: Going to France**

For the first time ever, Harry's summer had not involved dodging relatives, covertly moving around or evading Death Eaters. Instead, he was dodging journalists, politicians, authors and the general public. It almost made him pine for Privet Drive. Almost. He had settled in to Grimmauld's Place after spending a couple weeks with the Weasleys, but he felt wrong intruding on their grieving. He had plenty of grieving to do himself. So many had died during the Battle of Hogwarts. So many friends. He had been keeping busy, after resting and attending to far too many funerals.

Shacklebolt had enlisted him and Ron into the Aurors, who needed all resources to round up the remaining death eaters. Hermione had found herself knee deep in the fascinating world of administration and legislation, seemingly sleeping at the ministry in an attempt to right the ship.

But now, four months on, Harry had nothing to do. The sudden defeat of Voldemort had thrown his ranks into chaos, with Death Eaters falling over themselves to rat out their comrades for milder sentences. It had been a few busy months, but Azkaban was filled to the brim with people awaiting trials, or already found guilty.

Harry was utterly exhausted. He had trouble sleeping, replaying seeing his friends die over and over, waking up sweating. He had taken to dulling the pain with some firewhiskey before bed, but while it allowed him to fall asleep, it did little for his nightmares. He could not go anywhere without people flocking around him, thanking him, crying, asking questions, shaking his hand. The hero-worship truly made him uncomfortable, but no one seemed to notice. What made it worse was that he had no one to turn to. Everyone had lost someone, and his closest friends had too much on their plates as it was.

He felt trapped and alone, with everyone busing themselves with rebuilding the wizarding society of Britain. Even Ginny was gone, returning to Hogwarts for her final year. Their goodbye had been awkward, neither of them being sure where they stood, and with so much else going on.

And now he had been put on leave, after his Auror partner had been killed taking down the last die-hards. Yet another life lost defending Harry's life. The list was getting quite long. With nothing left but redecorating Grimmauld's Place 12, he was simply cabin crazy. He had a sudden pang of deep sympathy with Sirius, who had been cooped up here for a year.

Harry sighed to himself and retreated to his study, where he resolutely went through the pile of mail that kept appearing every day. Mostly it was letters of gratitude, well wishes and the like, with some requests for interviews or lunch appointments thrown in for good measure. He was almost done with the pile when an owl flew in through the open study window, a thick envelope bearing the seal of Hogwarts tied to its leg. It gave a hoot and stretched its leg out to him expectantly. His curiosity peaked; he untied the envelope and tore it open to see a neat handwriting he recognized.

 _Dear Mr. Potter._  
 _I was saddened to hear about your recent trouble in the pursuit of a safer Britain. The loss of Mr. Thomas Scurry was a great one, especially after so much has already been lost. I regret that I have not had the time to visit with you in person, but as I am sure you can imagine, my appointment has left me little time for rest. There is a lot to rebuild, and many losses to get through. But I digress. I am writing you in the hopes that we can be of mutual help to one another. I know you must be quite in need of something to do, so I have a proposal._

 _My colleague from Bauxbatons have in her correspondence with me expressed her desire for a skilled candidate to teach classes in Practical Defence Against the Dark Arts. While our sisters and brothers across the channel have an excellent academic institution, they are sadly lacking when it comes to the more -mill spellcasting. Madame Maxime requested I forward a few names I think will fit the position, and as you are both well versed in fighting overwhelming odds, and teaching other young rascals to so, with surprisingly good results I might add, I wish to recommend you._

 _Now, I know you might have reservations about this, but it will only be for a semester or two to begin with. You should know that there is some unrest on the continent. Even as we are rebuilding, trouble is brewing elsewhere, and capable witches and wizards are hard to come by in France at the moments, as they are needed trying to hunt down various disruptive elements. I have been assured that language will not be a problem, as English is a standard class throughout the years. Truth be told, I had thought to offer you a position here at Hogwarts, but considering you will most likely be hounded as much if you were to come here as you are now, I think that option should be tabled for now._

 _I know you may have reservations, but I do believe a change of scenery will do you good. If you have any question, please send an owl with your response._

 _Best Regards,_  
 _Minevra McGonnagal_

 _P.S. Forgive me the lack of titles and honorifics. I feel we know one another far too well to stand on ceremony in our letters, now that you are no longer my student._

 _P.P.S. Please do consider taking the appointment, strongly. A bit of sun and rest from everything will do you a world of good. Not to mention having a daily routine again._

Harry just sat staring at the letter for a moment, dumbfounded. Him? A teacher? _HIM?!_ That was absurd, wasn't it? He sighed, and a small voice at the back of his head whispered; _but why not? You have done it before._ He felt tempted despite his reservations. There was a lot to do after all, and he still had to talk with Ginny to find out where they stood. But it would only be for a couple of semesters to begin with, and Ginny was away at Hogwarts until Christmas, and he could always visit then. He was on leave with orders to relax and get in the right mindset. His friends were too busy for him anyway.

Hell, why couldn't he take a few months, get some sun, get away from the press and fans and everything. He grabbed a fresh piece of parchment and a fountain pen, and jotted down his reply in a quick and slightly uneven hand before sending it off with the waiting owl. He could do this.

The next few days were busy for Harry. He had received a glowing reply from McGonnagal, wishing him all the best in France, as well as sending him a couple books on the noble art of teaching, in case he needed some help. A few days after, a package from Madame Maxime had arrived, bearing a letter of confirmation to his post at Beauxbattons, and a long personal letter, letting him know her hopes for him and his class, as well as an invitation for dinner the following Friday, so they might get to talk properly and plan a bit before he started. The school year had already begun, but his class was not scheduled to start until the end of October, giving him just over two weeks to get everything in order.

The Ministry proved more than willing to let him have as much time off as he felt he needed. He had sent an owl to Ginny, explaining that he was leaving England for a bit, but saying he wanted to meet her for the holidays. He even promised to get her something posh and French. He spent more time than usual the last weeks, visiting his Godson, Teddy. Andromeda Tonks was always glad to have him over, and he loved playing with the little baby. When he heard the high pitched laugh of the happy child, his mind felt lighter than it had any right to be. When he had talked to Ron and Hermione over lunch, Ron had actually made him laugh. Harry had told them about the teaching position and his reasoning.

When he had added "I mean, how hard can it be to teach a few Frenchies to fight a bit?" Ron had surprised him by actually snorting and saying.

"Yeah, sorry mate. Let's just say that the frogs isn't known for fighting much. Now, if you were teaching run-and-hide class, they would nail it for sure." Harry had burst out laughing, the sensation feeling strange, but once he had started he found it hard to stop. Hermione had smacked Ron on the back of the head, before she too had joined them in roaring with laughter.

He had packed his stuff into a smart looking briefcase that Hermione had given him, to congratulate him on his new temporary job. He wondered how she had taken the time, but the spellwork on it was intricate. It was magically extended and could hold a small army if he wanted it too, but that was not all. She had enchanted it to be near indestructible, and light as a feather to carry. He marveled at it, truly wishing he had had something like it during his school days, instead of lugging his heavy trunk around. He had gotten a kick out of her explaining all her spell-work, including a rather brilliant charm that made the briefcase look like it contained nothing more than pens and papers to anyone who might want to sneak a peek.

And now, he stood in the Ministry's Lobby, saying his goodbyes to his friends while waiting for his portkey. He was dressed in a comfortable pair of jeans with a t-shirt he had gotten from Ginny for his birthday, and a patched blazer that reminded him of his muggle teachers, before he had discovered he was a wizard. It had made him chuckle a bit when he found it while picking up a few items from a completely mundane clothing store.

Hermione had smirked at the look, telling him he at least looked the part of a teacher. To complete his ensemble, he had draped a travelling cloak over his shoulders. He looked at the watch Mrs. Weasley had given him for his coming of age, and saw it was almost time. He gave Hermione and Ron a hug and a smile, promising to write and keep them updated on his progress, and stepped into a side alcove where an empty soda can stood on a small table. A harassed looking witch looked him up and down, her eyes widening as she recognized him.

"12:30 to Paris?" She stuttered. When Harry smiled and nodded, she gestured him forward to grab a hold of the can. With a pull as if hooked by the bellybutton, he felt himself pop in and out of reality, landing hard, but managing to keep his feet under him.

"Ah! Monsieur Potter!" a jovial voice called, making him instantly aware he was not alone. A short and impeccably dressed man stood beside a giant of a woman, both beaming as they took in the sight of him. "Welcome to France!".

His welcoming committee consisted of Monsieur Delacour and Madame Maxime, who shook his hand warmly in turns. Harry gave Madame Maxime a small kiss on the back of her hand, having been told by a very sour ministry official that some small modicums of politeness had to be observed when meeting representatives of the French Ministry, even if he was a 'famous rouge'.

Madame Maxime gave a hearty chuckle. "Well, Well! Zo polite! Eet iz good to zee you! 'Ow was 'ze trip?"

"All good. All good. Truly a pleasure to be here, Madame. Thank you for the opportunity."

"You are very welcome! You were ze best candidate after all." She said, sharing a smile with Monsieur Delacour who just rolled his eyes.

"So you had many candidates?" he asked a bit nervously. He was afraid he had taken the job from someone more qualified.

"A few. Mostly arrogant fools who fancy themselves duelists." She dismissed with a wave. "No one wiz your experience."

Monsieur Delacour nodded eagerly. "Oui. Eet iz a shame we cannot zpare an experienced Auror at ze moment, but trouble eez brewing."

"Nothing too serious I hope?" Harry asked.

"Non, non. Nozhing we cannot 'andle at the moment, but eet eez better safe zhan sorry, non? With everything zat 'appened the last year." His smile fell for a moment, before reappearing. "I 'ave a little gift for you! From ze Ministriè de la Magie, Welcome to our fair country!" he handed Harry a basket, containing an assortment of pastries, two bottles of wine, a fine selection of cheese, biscuits, and chocolate.

Harry managed to sputter out a thank you that Monsieur Delacour waved away, shaking his hand once more before making his excuses and leaving for a meeting, with assurances that Harry needed only write if he needed anything. Harry and Madame Maxime watched the short man stride away with an elegant gait, before turning to each other.

"I suppose I will bring the dessert." Harry said, holding up the gift basket. Madame Maxime gave a boisterous laugh.

"Oui, eef you wish, I will non refuse!" she chuckled. "Now, eef you are ready, take a 'old of my arm. I can carry your basket for you." She added, taking the basket. It looked small in her massive hand. "Now. First a tour of ze grounds and school, then I will show you to your quarters to zettle inn a bit, before we dine."

For the second time in an hour, Harry was pulled along magically to a strange new place. When he opened his eyes the sight nearly took his breath away. They were standing under an beautiful wrought iron archway. Stretching out in front of him was a cobble stone road, flanked by neatly trimmed hedges. The road ended in a large circular opening with a large fountain in the middle. The fountain was too far away to make out the details, but it seemed to be a collection of magical beasts rearing and spouting water.

The most fantastic sight was the school itself. It was a massive palace that spread out, surrounded by well kept gardens. The building reminded him of pictures he had seen of Versailes, and was more fit to house a king than students. As they strolled up the path he could see students relaxing in the mild weather, sitting on benches by fountains and flower gardens. A few of the nearby students offered respectful greetings to Madame Maxime, and curious glances at Harry.

Madame Maxime kept telling him about the various plants and hedges, the labyrinths, pools and gardens. There was a greenhouse on the eastern slopes, just out of view, and a Quidditch pitch in the distance behind the school. The entire grounds were surrounded by thick forest, to secure their seclusion from any muggles. He was told that the forest was seeded with wards to keep intruders at bay, something Harry found clever. Hogwarts had its own wards and spells of course, but it also had the advantage of being hidden away smack in the middle of the Scottish Highlands, miles away from anything non magical.

If the grounds themselves were magnificent, it was nothing to the interior. The entry hall was marble floors polished to a shine, with paintings and sculptures lining the walls. A Mable stairway lead to the upper floors. The great hall looked more like a fine dining restaurant than a cafeteria, with large round tables around the room, and a long table at the far end for the teachers. A large crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting cascading lights around the room.

"This is truly amazing." Said Harry, taking in the views. While Hogwarts would always hold a special place in his heart, the grandeur of Bauxbatons was something all to itself. While it in his opinion lacked the charm and mystical feeling of the highlands castle he had spent six glorious years exploring, he could not deny that the French had a sense of style and luxury that he had thought absent from all but the most expensive of private institutions in the muggle world.

He was shown several halls and ball rooms, decorated as to hold a royal party. Trophy rooms and studies. The hallways were decorated with paintings, busts and vases. Beautifully carved and padded wooden benches were sat at intervals along the walls, where students might sit to read or chat during free periods. Absent were the suits of armor that he had been so used to during his own time at school.

"I'm curious, Madame. The school is truly breathtaking, but I was given to understand that Beauxbatons' history goes back almost as far as Hogwarts. Yet the grounds seem far more modern." Harry interjected as he was lead down a hallway into what she had called the West Vestibule. He had been lead up a few flights of stairs, around various large and small hallways, and he was already truly and thoroughly lost, but damned if he was going to admit it.

"Eet iz true, ze school has a long, rich history. Ze original building was a castle, much like 'Ogwarts. Unfortunatly, eet was smaller and could not keep up with ze demands for space with increased number of students, and additional courses. Ze school was damaged during ze revolution, when it was caught between royalists and revolutionaries. Eet was decided to rebuild ze new school after Versailles, and the wards and spells surrounding ze school was tripled to prevent further attacks. You will still find ze old dungeons and catacombs under ze school, and parts of ze walls and towers were incorporated into ze new design." Madame Maxime explained with great enthusiasm. It was clear that she loved her school, and felt great pride in it.

They eventually came to a large classroom with tall windows overlooking a tranquil garden with a stature of a wizard shooting water from his wand. On a slightly raised platform stood a heavy oaken desk in front of a blackboard. There was a large open space between the door and the rows of desks. Large enough for well over a dozen people to stand abreast very comfortably. Along one wall there were several dummies on wheels, with 'wands' in hand, obviously used for practice.

"Zis will be your classroom. Eet has plenty of space to practice, and ze walls and windows are warded. Eet was used to teach dueling before ze international bans were passed. Will eet suit you?"

"It should will do very nicely, Madame." Harry meat it. The room was well suited to teach how to fight.

"Excellent! Now, eef you would follow me, I'll show you to your quarters." She lead him to a door just behind the desk to the right. There was a decently sized office space there, complete with a desk and comfortable looking chair, book shelves and a small parlor. At the far wall was another door, leading to a bedroom, while opposite the desk another door lead to a spiral staircase that he was told lead to the first floor, near the teacher's lounge. She instructed him to set a password, as the entry in the first floor was hidden, to ensure a little privacy. Madame Maxime left him to unpack and get a little familiar with his new quarters. She said she would send someone to fetch him for a private dinner in a few hours, and left through the spiral staircase.

Harry had marveled at his bed, a huge four post monstrosity with a carved headboard. The bed looked incredibly comfortable, and after laying down to test it, his suspicions were confirmed. The mattress was soft, yet firm, and seemed to shape itself to him, and the pillows were to die for, embracing his head. It took a great deal of willpower to not stay in bed for a long nap, but he had things to do.

He unpacked his books from his wondrous briefcase, placing them on the empty shelves. As he placed them, he realized that most of his books were the either schoolbooks, or various gifts from Hermione. He had also picked out quite a few spellbooks and manuals from the Black family library that had looked useful. When he opened the desk drawer to put in a few bottles of ink and some pens, he saw that it was not needed. His desk had been stocked with parchment, inks in various collours, pens, envelopes, sealing wax and even a seal bearing the coat of arms of Beauxbattons.

He took the opportunity to inspect his classroom in detail. The open space was clearly intended for mock duels, and the dummies seemed to be able to cast simple shield and stunning spells when activated. Truly ingenious. He sat down at his desk, overlooking the classroom and started pondering ideas on how to best demonstrate the basics. He was unsure of the skill level of his students, but they would be just a few year younger than him, and he was starting to doubt whether or not he would be able to teach them efficiently. He had not graduated his own studies, after all.

He must have sat there for a while, cause suddenly the door to the classroom opened and a tall witch stepped inside. She seemed to jump a bit at the sight of him, but recovered quickly. With swift strides she walked up to him, as he jumped down from his seat to stand. She flashed him a brilliant smile as she held out her hand to him.

"Monsieur Potter. A pleasure to meet you. I am Céline Leclair, professor of charms." She said in a sweet voice with barely a trace of an accent. She seemed young for a teacher, thou he was one to talk on that aspect. She must still be in her twenties, with a tall and curvy body. She had blonde hair that flowed around her shoulders. Her face looked almost feline, with soft full lips, and warm baby blue eyes. She wore an emerald green robe with decorative stitching and embroidery in black. She wore a matching hat, in much the same style as the students, but with a decorative feather. He took her offered hand and shook it, offering a smile.

"Nice to meet you, Professor Leclair. Harry Potter, newly appointed teacher for Practical Defence Against the Dark Arts." Harry said, feeling silly and blushing slightly. Professor Lecair just smiled as they shook hands. He could not help noting how soft her skin was.

"Madame Maxime asked me to come fetch you. Also, I come bearing gifts." She said as she offered him a folded parchment. It seemed familiar to him, and he stared at the lines and drawings for a moment before the pieces fell into place.

"A map!" He said grinning. Professor Lecair seemed a bit baffled, but smiled.

"Oui. It shows the school, floor by floor, and the location of the holder. If you need to find a room, you tap it with the wand and say 'Show Me' and name the location, like so." She said, pulling out her wand and tapping it to the map "Show me the Headmistress' Office"

The map gave a faint glow, and he could see a spacious room at the upper floors of the central tower light up, while the rest dimmed. His position was marked with a set of footprints that made him chuckle. The spellwork was similar to the Marauder's Map, but a little less intricate. Rather than showing everyone within the school, it only showed his position. This was a simple tool, from one professor to another, to help the newcomer find his way around the massive school.

"It's brilliant!" He said, admiring the map. "Thank you! This will be a huge help!"

"Think nothing of it, Harry. I know how lost I was here my first weeks when I got here. I have half a mind to have these made for all new students. But it would take too much time, and having to stumble your way through the grounds is like an initiation ritual, non?" she said with a wink.

She accompanied him to the headmistress' office, letting him use the map to guide them as they chatted politely. She had only taken her post at the school three years ago, after the retirement of her predecessor. She had worked for the French ministry for a couple of years after graduating, but found the bureaucracy ill suited her. She had wanted more time experimenting with her spells, and when a position opened up at Bauxbatons, she had jumped at the opportunity.

He found her to be good company. She had a relaxed and easy going nature, and Harry liked the light tone of their conversation. All too soon they stood in front of Madame Maxime's door. With a friendly wave and a smile, Céline said her goodbyes and took off down a corridor, disappearing out of view. Harry knocked on the door and was invited in by the Headmistress' boisterous voice. Her office was splendid. Neat and orderly, with bookshelves filled to the brim. A large ornate desk made of carved mahogany dominated the room. Behind it was an enormous chair, almost looking like a throne. The room also sported a collection of comfortable armchairs and sofas around a low table. The entire office looked warm and inviting, and it's neat order stood in a slight contrast to Dumbledoor's office at Hogwarts, which had at times been cluttered. Three doors led to other rooms, and what must make up the Headmistress' personal quarters.

"Ah! 'Arry! I trust you found your way?" Madame Maxime said, all smiles as she rose from her throne to usher him into one of the doors.

"Indeed, Headmistress. Professor Lecair gave me a map that was most helpful, as was her accompanying me to make sure I didn't get lost."

"Ah. Yes. She is quite helpful. I want to put togezer a lunch wiz ze teachers tomorrow to introduce you, before ze classes start on Monday. Now. Shall we?" She took a seat at a beautiful dining table, surrounded by a dozen chairs in a well lit dining room. Perfect for entertaining guests and have a private meal.

The dinner itself was truly amazing. Harry had not realized just how famished he was after a long day of travelling and settling in to his new home for the foreseeable future. The meal started out with a chicken soup that was to die for, and had Harry hoping for seconds, but the main course was simply fantastic. A dish he had no idea how to pronounce that included veal and caramelized vegetables. The meat was so soft and tender that he barely needed a knife to cut it, as at almost parted just from the pressure of his fork.

The dinner conversation was pleasant, if not enthusiastic. Madame Maxime was a fountain of wisdom, and gave Harry good input on teaching. When it was time for dessert, Harry placed the gift basket he had received on the table. The pastries were divine, the cheese magnificent, and the wine rich and full. As they ate and drank, the conversation became somewhat more informal. After his second glass, he felt the nagging questions in the back of his mind rise again.

"Madame Maxime, if I may ask. I know you said finding a teacher on such short notice had been hard, but I still feel like there must have been better candidates than an overrated school-drop out. Don't get me wrong, I am flattered, but still…"

Madame Maxime looked at him intently for a moment, taking a deep sip from her glass, before answering.

"You may be right. I should 'ave explained. There are plenty of people who are qualified, that is true. Ze problem is zis. The Ministry is trying to impose themselves into the administration of ze school. Far more zan zey 'ave a right to. Giving them ze chanze to place an agent on my staff to influence me is something I simply could not allow. I asked Headmistress McGonnagal to find me a suitable candidate to circumvent the Ministry, under ze guise of building relations with the Brits, and not diluting ze ranks of ze Aurors."

"So, I'm a what? A middle finger to the ministry?" Madame Maxime barked a laugh at the impertinent question. Harry had not meant to say it, but his mouth had ran away from him once again.

"Of a sort, oui." She chuckled. "But also because you are a very competent wizard. Do not doubt zat. I was impressed wiz you during ze Triwizard Tournament. You 'ave courage, resourcefulness and skill. From what I 'ave heard, you trained your fellow students when your own ministry interfered wiz your school. And, let us be 'onest; You defeated ze worst wizard of ze century. 'Aving you teach 'ere will bring prestige to ze School."

Somewhat mollified, and a little miffed, he refilled his glass and took another sip. "So, I take it the Ministry will try to cozy up to me?"

"Oui. Why do you think zey gave you ze basket?" She smirked.

"Well, if they offer free booze and food, let'em try." Said Harry, taking a vicious bite from a pastry.


	2. Chapter Two: New Teacher

Chapter Two: The New Teacher

Gabrielle

«Have you heard? The new teacher has arrived?»

"Really? Who is it?"

"No one knows!"

"I heard someone say it was an Englishman!"

"Can't be! Why would they hire a brit?"

"Is he hot?"

"I don't know, no one has gotten a good view of him yet. He was not at breakfast, lunch or dinner the entire weekend!"

Gabrielle sighed. All around her, her classmates were gossiping like crazy about this mysterious new teacher. They had known the additional class was coming since term started, but from what she had heard, there had been issues finding a suitable teacher. She did wonder why they had gotten an Englishman, when there was a lot of great wizards and witches in France. As she twirled the spoon around her soup bowl, the twittering conversations and theories about mysterious new teacher continued. She had received a new time plan this morning with the Practical Defense Against the Dark Arts added to her timetable.

On the plus side, with the teacher being English, they would all get some practice in the language, outside English class. She had found it weird that English was even taught at Bauxbatons, since it had absolutely nothing to do with magic, but it made sense since it was the language most often used in international affairs. She finished her soup, and got up to leave. Ella and Sophie stood with her. They had been besties since her first year. Back then, she had been teased for looking like a little girl. One of the drawback/blessings of being part Veela was a severely prolonged youth. She had stayed pretty much the same from she was nine until puberty hit her smack in the face with full force. Over the summer she had develop a more womanly shape, and as soon as she got tits, she started getting attention from the boys who had teaser her.

Her sudden popularity with the boys had been exhausting. She did not want them drooling all over her, and she certainly did not need the cold treatment and whispers that followed her from the insecure girls who saw her as some sort of man-stealing prima donna. But Sophie and Ella had stayed at her side through it all, never stabbing her in the back like so many of her other friends had done at the first chance.

They made their way to the third floor of the West Vestibule a bit early. She had to admit that while she didn't care much for the gossiping and speculations, she was curious about the new teacher too. They entered the designated classroom, pausing for a moment at the door. It was far larger than most of their other classrooms, with a wide open space at the back of the room. The room was deserted when they entered, and they decided on seats in the front, so they would be better able to see the mysterious newcomer to their school. As the minutes passed, her classmates started trickling in, an eager murmur rising as they all speculated on what they would be taught.

When the bell rang, they all quieted down expectantly. A minute passed, then another. Almost five minutes into the class, and no teacher in sight. People started getting impatient, wondering if there had been some mistake. Just as a boy from the Green Wing dormitories got up from his desk to leave, muttering about wasting his time, the door to the Professor's office flew open with a loud thud as it swung all the way on its hinges and slammed into the wall. A man sprinted into the room, looking a bit flustered as he stopped at the teacher's desk and caught his breath. He had a mane of unkempt black hair and captivating emerald green eyes. He was dressed in jeans, with a blazer open over a crimson t-shirt. He was a handsome man, no doubt about it, but he was so young. Her entire class looked at him captivated.

Gabrielle found herself blushing, her cheeks growing hot, and she was sure they sported a spectacular shade of deep red. Her entire body felt like she was melting and floating at the same time, as she stared open mouthed at her new teacher. No other than the man she had been madly in love with for years, eversince her second year at Beauxbatons, when her sister had been their champion in the Triwizard Tournament, and he had saved her. Her new teacher was Harry Freaking! Potter!

Harry

Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, DAMN! He repeated the mantra over and over in his mind as he sprinted through the unfamiliar corridors. He had felt a pressing need to relieve his bladder before his first class ever as a teacher, and had managed to get lost along the way. And of course, Harry being Harry, he had left the magnificent map Professor LeClair hadmade him on his desk. Where else would it possibly be of more used to him? His pocket? Of course not. That would be too easy.

So now he was running like a headless chicken, desperately searching for anything familiar and drawing stares from any students he passed. What a sight he would make. The new teacher, the famous Harry Potter. Navigating his way around the God-forsaken British countryside for months, hunting horcruxes, breaking into banks, stealing dragons and fighting dark wizards, defeated by a set of French corridors. He stole nervous glances at his watch, seeing his class had already started. "Bloody hell!" He growled in frustration, before spinning around, seeing a confused and amused looking student that carried a silver pin on the breast of his uniform. It reminded him of the Prefect badges at Hogwarts, and he vaguely remembered that there was a similar system in place here.

"You!" He said pointing. "Where is my office?"

The confused prefect managed to stop himself from laughing out loudly, but could not stop the throaty chuckle. He obviously didn't trust himself to open his mouth, but he pointed to a spot behind Harry. He turned, recognizing a particular vase he had knocked over two days before on his way back from dinner with Madame Maxime. He had ran right past the semi-hidden entrance to his office, in his panicked search for it.

"Aye, cheers mate!" He said, setting a punishing pace for the door. He said the password, the door swung open and he sprinted up the stairs. As the door swung shut behind him, he could hear the prefect burst into laugh. He burst like a bat out of hell from his office, into a full classroom. Stopping at his desk to catch his breath for a moment, he finally stood straight and looked out on the small sea of faces staring at him. The room was utterly silent, after the booming bang of the office door ramming the wall behind it.

"Uhm. Hey." He said, hesitantly. He caught himself, took a deep breath, and channeled his inner Hermione. Keep calm Harry. You can do this. "Welcome to Practical Defense Against the Dark Arts. My name is Harry Potter, and I'll be your Professor for this subject. I am sorry I'm late for my own class, but I assure you it will not happen again. Now, let us begin!"

All in all, the class went pretty well, despite his somewhat unconventional start. He had handed out the book required for his class, before explain to his awestruck class the purpose and expectation of the newly introduced subject. He had been a little thrown off when he recognized Gabrielle Delacour in the front row, her cheeks burning hot red, and refusing to meet his eyes, while seeming unable to keep them off him when she thought he was not looking. That more than anything else convinced him utterly just how big a blunder he had made. She was so embarrassed on his behalf that she hardly knew what to do with herself, the poor girl.

He had demonstrated the usefulness of a well aimed stunning spell, by the simple expedience of asking for volunteers, before dropping them to the floor with a flick of his wrist. He noted with a flinch that a mat or pillows would be a goodinvestment the next time he needed the demonstration. His volunteer had smacked his forehead on the floor when the spell struck him. Luckily, there was no blood and no bruise, but it had sent the class roaring with laughter.

At the end of the class he asked if they had any questions relevant to the class, but they seemed to be a little startled by his presence, and there were few who asked anything. When he had looked at Gabrielle, she had looked away so fast he was surprised the girl hadn't earned herself a whiplash. Before dismissing the class, he did something he had never done before, and assigned his very first homework. He had told them to reach the texts relevant to shielding and stunning, telling them they would get to practice them next time.

As the class trooped out of the room, Harry collapsed into his chair. "Well, that could have gone better. But not bad, Potter. Not bad." He muttered to himself. He had two other classes that day that, that luckily went far better than his opening act. At lunch there had been a few snickers in his direction, but he did his best not to let it bother him. No doubt, the whole school would know about his morning before the sun went down.

At dinner in the evening, he was seated next to Professor LeClair, who managed to wait until he was halfway through his plate before looking him dead in the eyes and asking, "So… Hectic morning?" with a smile tugging on her lips. Harry groaned as he put down his fork.

"So you heard?" asked Harry.

"Oh yes. One of my honor students had quite the tale to tell this morning. Apparently, a strangely dressed Professor, running through the hallways looking like a lost puppy. I'mhappy to say he could be of help, and pointed the professor in question to the right place. Lucky for you our prefects are trusted with knowledge of all Professor's private entryways." She said, smiling sweetly at him.

"Yeah. Lucky."

"I almost feel offended that you did not think to use my gift." She noted, her eyes sparking with mirth.

"Yeah. I would have, had my scatterbrained self not left it at my desk when nature called." He noted sarcastically. That made her laugh, her laughter like a clear bell.

"Oh my. How forgetful." She commented.

"Yeah. Well, at least I made an impression."

"Oh, I dare say you did at that." She chuckled. "So, besides your dramatic start, how was your first day?"

"Truthfully? Terrifying. I was so nervous about screwing up that I found it hard to focus properly. But I think it went well, all things considered. I think my students are a bit nervous around me thou." He said, picking up his fork again and resuming the consuming.

"Don't worry. I was the same my first day. Kept fumbling my notes, stuttered a bit. It's normal. I did make it to class on time however." She smiled at the friendly dig at him. "As for your students, can you blame them? This is France, but we all know about Harry Potter. They will grow used to having you around soon enough. Assign a few long papers as homework, and they will curse your name just as much as ours."

The rest of dinner was a pleasant affair. He had met the teachers over the past two days, but he knew few of them by name. They were all eager to help him, and were great sources of advise on how to perform his new job. The only one of his colleagues, besides LeClair, that he had talked to at length was the Potions Master. After years of Snape's less than fair treatment of him, Harry had become weary of the position, but René Artoise was a stellar opposite to Snape. He was jovial, friendly, and quick with a smile.

When he showed up to dinner a little late, he took the seat besides Harry, opposite LeClair, and let out a long sigh.

"Aaah. 'Ad a first-year manage to brew a concoction that somehow covered ze entire lab in black smoke so thick you could swim in eet. Took a while to get everyzhing cleaned up." Professor Artoise said as way of explaining his tardiness. "I almost suspect someone switched 'ees Blackroot powder with Peruvian Vanishing powder. Ah! Magnifique! Halibut!" he said as he served himself. He was a bit older than Harry, in his mid-thirties, with short curly brown hair, and kind chocolate brown eyes. He had a small scar over his left eyebrow, the result of a failed potion experiment in his final year.

"So, 'ave we made fun of our new friend for his display zismorning yet?" He asked jovially as he took a bite and closed his eyes in delight.

"Oui. First thing." LeClair chuckled.

"Good. And made 'im feel better?" René asked with a smile.

"Of course."

"Good. Good. I wish I could 'ave seen eet." The Potions Master laughed. "Good show. My first day, I tripped over a cauldron. 'Appens to ze best of us."

"I'm just glad my class is only mandatory for years five to seven. I honestly don't know how you manage it all." Harry said as he washed his meal down with a cup of a rich Bordeaux wine.

"Eet comes with practice, as everzhing else."

They talked amicably for a while, sharing a few laughs at Harry's expense, and discussing their plans for the holidays. Artoise was spending it at Bauxbatons, taking his turn chaperoning the students that were staying behind at school over Christmas. LeClair had been invited to stay with her sister, and was excited to spend some time with her nieces. As they talked, Harry felt a small prickling at the back of his neck, as if being watched. He straightened in his chair and let his gaze wander over the assembled student body, busily eating. At a table on his right hand side, near the doors, Gabrielle was looking right at him. As he met her eyes, she blushed and looked away.

Still embarrassed by my performance Harry thought as he dived back into the conversation, telling them about his plans to visit with the Weasley's. It had become tradition, after all, and Molly had made sure to let him know he was expected, come hell or high waters.

Gabrielle

What the hell is wrong with me?! Gabrielle cursed at herself inwardly as Harry's eyes found her across the room. She had been staring again, and he had caught her red handed. She quickly looked down, concentrating hard on her dinner and trying to fight the blush creeping up on her cheeks. She had thought that her crush on his was over, finally. She had given up on anything ever happening between them, but as soon as she had seen him, it all came rushing back with a vengeance. He had been in her thoughts all day. Why did it have to be HIM?

She finished her food as quick as she could without breaking proper etiquette, and left for her wing's common room. She found her favorite chair by the window and sank into it like a sack of potatoes, closing her eyes as she tried to make sense of her feelings. This wasn't like before. She had understood her crush on him, more or less. He was handsome, and brave and kind. And he had saved her life. But this, this felt so much…more. Whenever she saw him, she felt like she was burning up inside, and it sent butterflies raging through her. She had trouble focusing, and seemed to be unable to look away from him.

"Gabby? Are you feeling alright?" Sophie said worriedly. Sophie and Ella had entered the room without her even noticing, and taken their customary places next to her. "You have been acting strange all day. Are you sick? Should we go to Healer Ivorie?"

"Is it not obvious?" Ella said with a smirk, her eyes glittering with mirth.

"What is obvious?" Sophie asked.

"That our Gabby is hot for teacher." Ella stated with a trace of humor in her tone.

"Shut up!" Gabrielle blurted out, looking around the room, but the only other people there were playing chess by the fireplace, and looked utterly consumed by their game.

"So it's true? You fancy the Englishman? I mean, he is not bad looking, and he IS famous, but there are plenty of prettier boys at school than him." Sophie said.

"Sophie, are you dense?" Ella said rolling her eyes. "Remember our second year? The triwizard tournament? The dashing young man who saved her?" Sophie's eyes went wide as she realized.

"Oh, right! I forgot! That was him! That's the boy you got a crush on? You said it was some boy you met at Hogwarts! Not that it was Harry Potter!"

"Remember how she would go on and on about him?" Ella said with a laugh. "'Oh, he is so handsome! He is so brave and strong, and kind, and gentle, and I wanna marry him and have his babies and live happily ever after'" Ella's imitation of Gabrielle's voice was fairly good, if very exaggerated.

"I never said the last parts!" She protested to the laughter of her two friends.

"Oh, honey. We could read between the lines." Ella said, putting her hand on Gabrielle's thigh, patting it reassuringly.

"I'm sorry Gabby. I should not mock. It's just a little funny to see the ice queen melted at last."

"I'm not melted!" She said, her words feeling like a lie as they left her lips. With a sigh and a moan she continued. "That's a lie. I have no idea what the hell is wrong with me."

Harry

The next few days went well. After his introduction of the class to each new group, he started evaluating their skills. He quickly found that most of them had excellent theoretical knowledge, but lacked practice with using the spells. He had them practice taking turns against the dummies, giving them an easy entry into parrying spells, and practicing disarming. By the end of his first week as a teacher, barely half his students had sufficient skills to go an entire set against the dummies without taking a single hit.

He had noticed a few students struggling a bit, and after talking to Madame Maxime, he set up an extra volunteer class for Saturdays for those who needed the practice. She had been pleased at his enthusiasm, and his willingness to put in a little extra effort to make sure all his students could reach the same level as their classmates.

Surprisingly enough, Gabrielle Delacour was one of the students he felt needed a little extra practice. She was a brilliant witch, according to both LeClair and Artoise, who spoke of her in glowing terms. But for some reason, she seemed unfocused in his classes, frequently taking hits from the dummies, when her parries failed, or she wasn't quick enough with her wand work. After a particularly bad session on Wednesday his second week, he asked her to stay behind after class.

As the rest of her classmates trooped out of the room, two girls lingered behind a little to give her some uplifting words, while Gabrielle stayed seated at her desk. She looked down, a blush threatening to spill into a full, lush red on her cheeks. She can't still be bothered by my first day, can she? He asked himself as he took a deep breath. He walked over and took a seat on the desk in front of hers, facing her.

"Miss Delacour," he started, clearing his throat a little. She lifted her head to look at him, but quickly looked down again. "I can't help but notice that you are lagging a little behind. It'sas if you are having difficulty concentrating in my classes. I have been reassured that you are an excellent student, so I have to wonder if I am the problem…" She looked up at him in shock at his words. "Now, If I have done or said anything that have offended you, or made you uncomfortable, I am sorry."

"Non! You are a good teacher, Professeur Potter. I just…. Struggle a bit." She said, finally looking him in the eyes. "I will do better, I promise."

"All we can do is try. I am putting together extra classes on Saturdays, for those who need a little extra practice. Now, it isn't mandatory, but I would like you to attend. Anyone can master pretty much anything with enough will, practice and effort."

"I… Oui… I will be zhere." She said quickly.

"Excellent. Now, off you go. I am sure your friends are waiting outside for you." He said with a smile as he dismissed her. The petite silvery-blonde got up, and almost rushed from the classroom. He sighed again, something he found he did more and more as he settled into teaching. Had it not been for Neville, he knew he would have had a much harder time doing all of this, but his friend had made him be patient, and to try to instill confidence in his students.

That evening he sat down to write a few letters. He wrote Hermione to tell about the school and the differences between Bauxbatons and Hogwarts he had observed so far, and asked her if she had any recommendations for future classes. She might not be a teacher, but few people had taught him more over the years. In his letter to Ron, Harry decided to make his friend a bit jealous by describing the wide, varied and exquisite cuisine the school offered, knowing that was something Ron truly missed about school, if nothing else.

He wrote Ginny as well, and told her he was looking forward to seeing her over the holidays. He wrote a letter to Hagrid, sending with it a bottle of some fine cognac he had won from Artoise playing a form of card game he still had no idea how to play. To call it beginner's luck would be putting it mildly. Last, he wrote to Headmistress McGonagall, informing her of his progress and thanking her for helping him. He sent a fine selection of chocolate confections.

One brilliant part of being a teacher at Bauxbatons was that he only needed to place his outgoing mail on a tray labeled 'Out', and it would be sent to the Owlery within a few minutes, where it would be dispatched with an owl, thus sparing him having to do it himself. Rank truly had a few upsides. He considered taking a stroll through the gardens to get some fresh air. The weather was turning colder now, with winter fast approaching, but Southern France was a hell of a lot warmer than the Scottish Highlands, even this late in the year. On impulse, he grabbed one of the spell books he had brought from Grimmaulds Place, in case he got the urge to do some light reading. With a chuckle, he realized he was reminding himself of Hermione.

Gabrielle

It had been so humiliating to tell her friends that she was taking extra classes for Practical Defense Against the Dark Arts. Ella had laughed and winked at her, asking if she had flunked on purpose to get more time with Harry. She didn'tknow what to do anymore. She had never failed a single class in her entire life, and now, just because the teacher made her tingle all over, she was so bad she needed special tutoring.

Special tutoring… I wonder just how special it could be… she thought to herself, feeling the all too familiar burning inside her. STOP THAT! She screamed at herself internally. Focus you silly girl! You do not need to fail more classes! She renewed her efforts in turning her teacup invisible.

When the bell rung, she headed for the main doors. The day was beautiful, and quite warm for this time of year. Sophie had suggested they took the chance to do some homework at their spot in the gardens, before the weather got too cold. Sophie had even packed some snacks, and Ella had gotten afew bottles of wine from somewhere. While a glass of wine was allowed to upper classmen for dinner, students in general were discouraged from partaking too much.

The gardens were still beautiful this late into autumn, but many of the leaves had already fallen, making the grounds look like a blanket of brown-yellow shades. When they rounded the Hedges surrounding the fountain-statue of Madame Beuxan, a witch from the middle ages, famed for attempting to reach the moon on her broom, they saw that there was an occupant on one of the benches.

Right there, in one of the benches was none other than Professor Potter, laying with one arm supporting his head on the armrest, his right foot dangling lazily over the side. In his other hand, he held a book, using his thumb and forefinger to turn pages at a lazily rate. Gabrielle stopped dead at the sight. No,no,no,no no! she thought to herself, desperately looking for the closest place to hide, as Ella smacked into her from behind, not having noticed her friend stopping.

"Ouch! Why the fuck are you stopping without warning?" Ella said sourly. Her frown changed to a smirk as she saw the man on the bench. "Oh. That's why."

Professor Potter had sat upright at the commotion, his wand out and pointed at them, before he saw who they were and lowered it with an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry. Old habits and all that." He said as he put away his wand.

"Old 'abits?" Ella replied in English, looking amused. She had already opened, and almost drained, a bottle already. "You 'ave ze 'abit of drawing your wand at schoolgirls? On my." She giggled a little and added in French. "You just might have a chance with him if that is the case, Gabby." With a devious wink.

Gabrielle wanted for nothing more than the ground to open up and swallow her whole, right that instant. Harry on the other hand chuckled a little, the sound doing strange things to her.

"Not exactly, but when you have been through what I have, being ready for an attack keeps you alive." His voice took on a deeper, raspier character, as if he were imitating someone. "Constant Vigilance!" he said bitterly.

"What?" Ella looked confused.

"Just something an old teacher of mine used to say." He was silent for a moment, before smiling at them.

"But I see I'm not the only one that wanted to do some outdoors reading… Or was it drinking?" he said smiling, gesturing for the basket containing the snacks and wine, not to mention the bottle in Ella's hand. Even Ella stiffened a bit at that. Drinking on school grounds, outside of dinner was against school regulations, and could be punishable by detention.

"Proffeseur, I can explain-" she started, but Professor Potter just waved her off.

"No need. I didn't see you. I'll just wander a bit and try to wrap my head around some of these concepts. Have a good day, ladies." He said as he picked up his book and walked down the path, nose buried in his book.

"Wow. Your boyfriend is cool, Gabby. I thought I would be scrubbing the hall of mirrors by hand, for sure."

"He's not my boyfriend." She muttered as she took a seat on the recently vacated bench and fished up her charms book, throwing herself into studying to calm her racing heart.


	3. Chapter Three: The Christmas Party

**Chapter Three: The Christmas Party**

Harry

The days passed, and before Harry even knew what had hit him, December arrived in full force. By the tenth of December, the students were talking of little more than their holiday plans, with break only a week away. Harry was truly amazed at how much he liked his new profession, despite still having some reservations about his qualifications, and trying to work out how to teach in the best manner possible for all his students.

There had been a lot of improvement in such a short time, but they still had a long way to go before they were even close to what DA had been. His seventh year students had just started practicing against one another, something that had them all very excited. He had started a ranking system, as to pair people with similar skills to each other. He had heard rumors from Artoise that there was even a bit of unofficial betting going on about who would be on the top of the list before Christmas.

His extra classes on Saturdays had made a huge difference, combined with his positive reinforcement of their successes. Pretty much everyone had been caught up to their classmates by now, but several of them had chosen to stay on, eager to learn more. It was funny how enthusiastic students became when you taught them how to fight each other, and gave them leave to do so under controlled circumstances. Only one student seemed to still be lagging behind. Gabrielle Delacour had improved a bit, but she still seemed unfocused and uncomfortable. She still refused to look him in the eyes for longer than a few seconds at a time. He vowed to find some way to help her out. Maybe ask his very helpful colleague, Professor Céline LeClair, for advice.

Most evenings he spent a lot of time in the teacher's Lounge, chatting with the other Professors, and playing various games with his two newfound friends. He also found himself reading a fair bit more than he ever thought he would after the end of his school days. He had gone through about half of the books he had brought with him, and he had learned a whole bunch of useful spells he wished he had known a year ago. René and Céline had proved truly spectacular sparring partners. Céline had a good understanding of offensive magic, but her field of interest had always been charms and enchanting. René was a sneaky opponent as well, but a bit slower with his wand work than Céline.

None the less, he had a large arsenal of spells at his disposal, and was glad to teach any that Harry hadn't seen before. Harry on the other hand had taught them both to increase the strength of their shields, and to parry swifter. He really found that he liked the two Frenchmen, despite their somewhat questionable preference for coffee over tea. He still had nightmares, often waking up sweating in the middle of the night, but with things to keep him busy, he at least had no trouble falling asleep.

For the last two weeks, he had received The Daily Prophet by dinnertime. Hermione had decided that he needed to keep up with current events in Britain, and had gotten him a year's subscription as an early Christmas present. When harry had asked her just how the hell the poor owl was supposed to carry his paper all the way from England to southern France, she had responded with a well-researched, small novella sized letter about the various logistics employed by wizards to ensure swift delivery. He was sure it was incredibly interesting to a very select group of people, but halfway through the sixth page he almost found himself wishing for a Death Eater uprising.

There had been an increasing number of reports on unrest in several south European countries, with factions pushing for hard restrictions on allowing people from non-magical family lines to be trained in the arts of magic. In Bulgaria there had been riots after the leader for a political movement calling themselves Pure Dawn had been arrested for attacking 'mudbloods'. The various Ministries insisted that it was temporary troubles, and that they were in full control, but Harry had his doubts and a healthy dose of skepticism towards politicians after his first hand experiences.

He had already arranged for transport back to England via portkey on Saturday the nineteenth, leaving him Friday for some shopping. He had some presents to buy, and he had promised Ginny something posh after all. Céline had offered to take him shopping in the 'Quartier Magique', the French version of the Diagon Alley from what he had gathered. He had happily agreed, as he would be uselessly lost there for sure.

Harry looked at his watch, seeing it was dinner in a little over an hour. Groaning as he rose from his office chair, he stretched and felt a satisfying pop in his back. He had spent his afternoon reading a letter from Ginny, and writing his response. It seemed that Hogwarts had been a very demure affair so far this year. With so much destruction, and so many people dead, the events of last May were still haunting the halls it seemed. Ginny had been made captain of the Gryffindor House team, and was asking his opinion on running her team. Harry had only replied that she was probably a way better captain already than he had ever been.

He took a last glance at the letter, before placing it in his out-box and left his office for the Teachers' Lounge. René and Céline were already there. He was pleasantly reading a paper while smoking a pipe, while she was enjoying a cup of sweetened coffee and reading a letter. When Harry threw himself into the chair between them, she looked up and gave a smile.

"Ah. Harry. Nice of you to join us. René was just telling me about the little gambling ring you have going on in your classroom."

"I am not running a gambling ring. Just trying to teach a bunch of Frenchmen how to fight. I was warned before coming here that would be a difficult task. You know. Because this is France. Because how easily the French give in. Because the French can't fight."

"Eef you 'ave to explain ze joke, eet eez not a funny one." René said from behind the newspaper, a plume of smoke rising from the hidden man. "But of course. The British were exemplary brave when zey ran away at Dunkirk."

Harry chuckled. "What's this? A Frenchie with a spine?"

"Keep eet up, Potter, and you will be an Englishman without one." Came René's dry reply, followed by it's plume of smoke. Harry burst out laughing and was about to retort when Céline cut in.

"Yes yes, you both have very big wands, I'm sure. Now, let's stop waving them around for a minute, shall we?"

"Just a friendly bit of banter. Zere iz no harm."

"None at all. Any new news in the paper?" Harry asked, smiling at her.

"Zey change every day you know. Zat is in fact why zey are called newspapers."

Harry burst out laughing. He pulled his wand and tabbed the coffee table. "Tea, Earl Grey, two sugars."

Before long his tea had arrived, appearing on the table as if out of nowhere.

"Zere are unrest in Bulgaria and Ukraine. Zere 'ave been a few disappearances in Greece zat no one can explain. Besides zat, everyzing is dandy. France beat Norway 390-230 yesterday."

"Ah." Harry felt an uneasy clenching in his guts at the news of further unrest. He felt like something very bad was about to break loose, but could so many ministries truly be covering something up? He had to put some faith in their ability to keep the public safe, didn't he? The thought of defense reminded him on something he had meant to ask about.

"I need some help. Miss Delacour seems to be struggling with my classes. She is far behind the rest of her class, and I have no have no idea what to do."

"Well, I am surprised she is still having difficulty. She is one of the top students her year for my class. Strange, don't you agree, René?"

"Oui. She eez brilliant. Never blown up ze lab, not even once. Always delivers 'er 'omework on time, and 'az yet to screw up a potion since 'er zird year."

"So, is it me? Am I the problem?" Harry asked, feeling like a complete failure.

"Non. Your students like you," Céline started.

"Only cause 'e never gives much 'omework, and lets zem blast each ozer." René interjected, Céline gave him a dirty look he was spared from, due to his newspaper blocking him from view.

"My point is," She continued. "we all have some students who fail to preform, despite our best efforts. That's part of the job I'm afraid. But as long as she is willing to learn and put in the effort, you could offer her private classes. I did that for one of my students last year. He was afraid of failing his final exams, and could not focus. After I gave him some private tutoring, he passed it with flying colors."

"That's not a bad idea. I'll take it up with Madame Maxime. Thanks.".

Harry stayed in the Teachers' Lounge talking to René and Céline until it was time for dinner. René had eventually put away his paper, and joined the conversation properly. He repacked his pipe with some sweet smelling tobacco, and lit it with the tip of his wand before delving into his most recent research project. He had been fascinated by the Wolfsbane Potion for years, and was trying to improve upon it. He had been brewing it regularly for five years now, in order to help a childhood friend who was bitten when he was just a year out of school.

"You really think it can be done?" Harry asked fascinated. "I knew a werewolf once, and that potion was the only thing that allowed him to function normally."

"I am 'opeful, but I do not wish to get anyone 'opes up. I zink I 'ave managed to increase the potency, but I cannot be sure until I do more tests." René was beaming. His enthusiasm for his subject was evident in every word when he spoke about potions. "Eet is an extremely complex and expensive potion to make. I 'ope to find a way to make eet easier and less expensive to brew. Baring zat, I will settle for more potent, so ze same dose will have twice ze effect. Zat would reduce ze cost significantly, and may make it more affordable for zose who need eet."

"A noble goal." Harry said. "My old potions master said the effect was better if consumed warm. If you ever thought to bottle it, perhaps Céline could make you flasks that would always keep its content at a certain temperature."

"I 'ad never zought of zat. Is zat possible?" He asked with a glance at Céline.

"Sure." She shrugged. "It shouldn't be that difficult. There are some spells that will keep potions and brews in stasis for a time, but the spell is usually cast on the potion itself. Enchanting the glass to do the same, and keep a specified temperature inside could be very beneficial for apothecaries and the like."

"I never zought to sell eet. But maybe I could? It would 'elp fund my research to perfect eet." René said excitedly. "Could you make me a few bottles? It would be easier to send eet to my friend wizout 'aving to haul my caldron to 'is 'ouse every month."

"Sure. I'll see what I can whip up over the weekend." She promised with a grin.

Harry had been sad to learn that werewolves were as discriminated against in the continental Europe as they were in Britain. He understood the fear they caused, but Lupin had proved that werewolves were just as capable of being functioning members of society as anyone else. Hell, Lupin was better than most. He had been a truly fantastic person, despite all his troubles. The prospect of help being more readily available to them made Harry happy. He decided it would be a good way of honoring his friend and mentor, if he could somehow help.

"If you don't mind me asking, René." Harry cut in to the conversation again. "Why is it that more research isn't being put into this? You say the potion could be improved. Why hasn't it?"

"Mostly, eet is a matter of two zings; Zere is not a lot of interest in ze field. Werewolves are seen as a fringe problem. Ze second part is ze almighty Galleon. Werewolves are generally poor people. Often outcasts, even from zeir own families. Zey struggle to find jobs, and generally 'ave very little money to spend, even on somezing zat would help them. Ze potion is very expensive to make, and so very expensive to buy. I 'ave spent most of my salary for ze last years just to get zis far."

Harry thought for a moment, before reaching a conclusion.

"René. Would more money help your research?"

"Oui. I can barely make a small batch or two to experiment on a month. My friend helps me wiz what ee can, but eet is 'ard for 'im. If I 'ad more resources at my back, I could afford to experiment more. I 'ave written of zis to a few publications, but zere are no one willing to invest in somezing zat 'ave little chance of making a profit anyzime soon." René said sadly.

"I have a proposal for you." Harry said, leaning forward. "How about I give you an initial, shall we say… one thousand galleons? To experiment and try to improve the potion's effect, and simplify it if possible. Followed by" He thought for a moment "Fifty galleons a month?"

René's face fell, his mouth gaping as he stared wide eyed at Harry. His pipe fell from his mouth, bouncing off his lap and clattered along the floor, sending embers flying everywhere. "Zat…Zat is… I cannot accept! Zat eez too much!" he sputtered, then cursed and beat out the embers slowly burning a hole in his pants. "I cannot take such an amount from a friend! My experiments could take years!" he protested.

Harry held up a hand to stop him.

"René. I have more Galleons than I know what to do with at the moment. I have very few expenses, and I would rather see my money being used for something that matters, than sit in a vault collecting dust."

René was silent for a long time. He looked at Céline for help, but the witch just smiled at him, giving Harry a strange look.

"All that money, and you still said yes to teaching here?" She said in a quiet voice. She looked René in the eyes and said. "I'd take it, René. It could be a huge help."

"But…But what eef I can not pay you back? What if my experiments fail?" He asked, clearly nervous. "'Arry, I like you. It eez rare to find a friend like you. I would not loose zat friendship over money."

"I can afford it. I want to help. I have no talent with potions, but I do have galleons in abundance. So how about it? You supply the expertise, the time, the effort, and I do the easy part and fund your experiments. I promise you, I will never make demands on your research. I only want to see you succeed, and hopefully give our hairy brethren a better life, with affordable help." Harry smiled as he offered his hand. "Partners?"

"Oui, Partners." René said grinning, shaking Harry's hand.

"Partners?" Harry asked again, looking at Céline. She looked taken aback as she asked.

"Just what can I attribute? I have no money to invest, and I am nowhere near René's level with potions."

"Spells, Enchantments and knick-knacks I 'ave no talent for." René said grinning. "Are you aware 'ow much a decent enchanter costs? Plus, you can 'elp with some of ze basic brewing, saving me a lot of time."

"Fine. Partners." She said, shaking each of their hands in turn. Harry grinned wickedly as they started talking shop. René was suddenly looking forward to his Christmas holidays at school, where he could let loose with his experiments with no classes to teach. While they spoke, Harry wrote a letter to Gringotts, requesting a transference of funds. He headed to dinner with his two partners in a much better mood than he had been in for some time.

Gabrielle

 _Just one more week._ Gabrielle told herself as she failed utterly at disarming the practice dummy in front of her. _Just one more week until Christmas Break. You will go home, get away from him, and get over this… this…. Whatever this is! Now, stop acting like a silly little girl, and unleash your fury on that fucking dummy!_

She parried the dummy's attack, leveled her wand at the dummy and shouted "Expelliarmus!"

To her great surprise, the dummy's dummy-wand flew out of its hand, clattering to the floor behind it. She stood still for a moment. She had finally done it! She had disarmed the damned thing! Just as she was about to yell in triumph, she heard HIS voice from behind her, and her entire body tensed.

"Very well done, Miss Delacour! Ten points to... you!" She could hear the smile in his voice, and it set a small swarm of butterflies loose in her belly.

"Points? What points?" Ella asked from beside her, turning to look at the professor.

"Ah, well. At Hogwarts the students are separated into four houses and given points for success."

"Ziz is not 'Ogwarts, Professeur." Ella said confused.

"I know. It was a joke. Not a good one, obviously. What I meant to say is: Excellent work, Miss Delacour! Now, do it again!" She nodded at his words and prepared to strike, when Ella leaned in and whispered with a wink. "I bet you'd let him give you his point any time."

"What?!" Gabrielle shouted as she jabbed her wand, her half formed spell erupting in a confused mess, missing the dummy and striking the window, which shattered into a million tiny pieces as it blew outward.

Ella roared with laugher, and had to lean on Sophie to keep her legs under her. Gabrielle got red as a tomato with embarrassment as the entire class stared open mouthed at her. In that moment, she wanted nothing more than to strangle Ella and die.

"Well, I'll be damned." Harry said from her left. She looked up at him slowly, fearing what she would see on his face, but he stood there smiling, admiring the broken window. "Warded, reinforced glass, made to withstand punishment and wayward spells, and you blast it to smithereens. Impressive, but do try to avoid using that spell, whatever it was, on anyone you do not wish to murder in a very gory way." He said with an amused tone. Looking down at his clock, he raised his voice and called.

"All right. I think that's as good a place to end the class as any. You're dismissed!" Harry looked at her with a smile and continued in a lower tone. "If you wouldn't mind staying behind a little, Miss Delacour?" his tone made it clear it wasn't a request, but she nodded her agreement anyway.

When the class had trooped out and they were alone in the classroom, he burst out laughing.

"I have no idea what your friend said to you, but that was some raw power you displayed there. Even my mate Seamus would be hard pressed to blow that window up." He said with a broad smile.

"You… You're not angry?" She asked, confused.

"Angry? No! That was bloody brilliant! But do try to keep the explosions minimal in the future, for now at least."

"Zen, why am I staying behind? If not to be punished?" as she asked the question she felt herself blush. _Just how would he punish such a bad, naughty girl?_ A voice asked seductively from the back of her mind. _No! NO! Stop that, now!_ She admonished herself.

"Well, yeah. I can't just let an exploded window slide, as much as I want to. It's in the rules. I checked." He said with a grin. "So for that, I want an essay on the effects of intent and emotion on spells. Let's say four pages. Due by the eleventh of January." She groaned at yet more homework over the holidays, but at least it was mild in comparison to what some other professors might hand out.

"But the reason I wanted to talk to you is different, but related. Starting after the holidays, you will be taking private tutoring on Tuesdays and Thursdays, after dinner. You are improving, but not enough, and I will be damned if I let a single student down while I'm here."

Her heart skipped a beat. _More time with him… Alone. Anything could happen…_ the traitorous voice at the back of her mind said. _Oh, God, Please stop!_ _Nothing will happen! Nothing! I will go home, relax for three weeks and get over him!_ As she arrived at her lounge, she immediately went over to where Sophie and Ella were seated, and smacked Ella hard on the back of the head.

"Ouch! What was that for?" Her friend complained as she rubbed the sore spot. Gabrielle threw herself into her chair and gave her friend a death glare.

"You know full well what that was for! Why did you throw me off like that?!" She accused. Ella looked at her for a moment, before her hurt frown melted into a wicked laugh.

"You should have seen you face! It was so worth it! And when you blew up that window! I almost peed myself!" Ella laughed.

Sophie looked up from the book she was reading and gave her friend a stern look. "You did." Before continuing her studies.

"Did not!" Ella gasped, indignant.

"Whatever. Because of you, I get to spend my holiday writing a paper for Professor Potter! Extra homework!" Gabrielle pointed a finger at Ella. "And! I have to take private tutoring after break!"

Ella's wicked smile was back in an instant. "Oh… So because of me, you get to spend time alone with _Professeur Potter_." She said, rolling the last words seductively. "Who knows? Maybe he really will give you his point." The girl roared with laughed as Gabrielle threw her schoolbag at her, grabbing it before it could do any damage.

Harry

The last week flew by in the blink of an eye. Apart from Gabrielle Delacour deciding to remodel his classroom by turning a window into an open hole in the wall, it was uneventful. He prepared his classes for the next semester, and set to work on a schedule. For his last classes before the holidays he even handed out homework. He assigned them to read a few relevant chapters to prepare them for what would come over New Year.

When the seventeenth of December arrived, there was a large Christmas dinner held in the Great Hall, and Harry was once again awestruck by the beauty and elegance displayed at Bauxbatons. The walls were lined with alternating Christmas trees and intricate ice sculptures. Snowflakes fell from the ceiling, but disappeared before hitting anything. There were decorations and banners, streamers and a great open fire behind the Teachers' Table. Harry had donned his formal robes for the occasion, and even put on a silly pointed hat.

When all the students were seated, Madame Maxime rose and the hall fell silent. She held a speech that Harry couldn't follow for the life of him. He had picked up a few words here and there, but he was still as close to speaking French as he was to inventing a self-casting wand. He did get the broad point of her speech however. She was beaming with pride in her school and her students, and it showed in her every gesture and the tone of her voice. This was truly a headmistress who would shed blood, sweat, toil and tears for her school.

When the speech ended to roaring applause from both students and faculty, Harry joined in. Then the food appeared. Harry had grown used to some truly fine dining in his time at Bauxbatons, but the Christmas dinner was something out of this world altogether. There were so many dishes and sides he had never even seen before, and they had his mouth watering. When the desserts arrived, Harry felt like he was about to capitulate to the superior force of the French cuisine, but he just had to sample a few of the marvelous dishes offered. When the meal was over, he sat in his chair unable to move more than an inch without the fear of bursting open like an overstuffed piñata. He felt like his cousin Dudley for the first time in his life.

After the students had said their goodbyes and filtered out of the Great Hall, some to leave right away, while others would depart on the morrow, the teachers retreated to the Teachers' Lounge for small cakes and cognac. The cakes were delicious, and the cognac well aged and smooth. They became gradually louder and less formal as the cognac was consumed, and by the fifth glass, René was leading a loud, un-tuned carol. When Professor Brasique, a witch of about sixty with a stern face and disposition that taught Transfiguration, jumped up on the table wearing an absurd orange pope-hat she had gotten from somewhere, and started dancing the Can-Can, Harry almost fell from his chair laughing.

Suddenly Céline, Professor Volare and René, who had donned a bright pink tutu, joined her on the table. The entire staff was cheering and roaring like a bunch of drunken sailors. Harry was certain of one thing: None of his students would ever believe him if he were to tell them what had happened here this night. As the show came to its end, he bellowed his approval and applauded. Another bottle was opened, and more liquor shared around. By the end of the night, Harry was happily drunk. The last thing he remembered before he was embraced by sweet oblivion, was singing a very rude song about a goblin and a turnip fighting over a lump of gold.

When he woke the next morning, the night before came back to haunt him with a vengeance. His head felt like it had grown to thrice it's normal size, and it was hammering. His mouth was as dry as the Sahara Desert, and his throat felt raw, and his bladder uncomfortably full. As he got out of bed, the room seemed to have been transfigured into a ship's deck, because nothing stopped moving. Falling back to his bed with a moan, Harry solemnly swore he would never drink again. A moment later, his heart stopped when he felt movement in the bed.

"Good lord. How much did I have to drink?" Céline's voice sounded groggy as she sat up in bed. His bed. She looked at him with sleepy eyes and smiled. "Good morning."

"Good morning." Harry felt a blush rise in his cheeks. _What the hell did I do last night… No, this cant be happening! Ginny is gonna castrate me!_ He felt panic rising in him like he hadn't felt before. Facing Voldemort was nothing compared to facing Ginevra Weasley when she was truly and utterly furious.

"Thank you for letting me stay over. I was entirely too drunk to make it back to my room." She yawned. "God, my head is killing me."

"Letting you stay?" Harry asked confused, his mind working through just how much he had messed up.

"Oui. Don't you remember?" She asked.

"Things are a bit fuzzy after the table dancing, truth be told."

"Ah. You English… Can't hold your liquor." She chuckled.

"Cognac isn't really my drink." Said Harry.

"You don't say." She stretched, popping a few joints. "Well, after the party ended, you suggested we retire to your quarters. You had a few bottles of firewhiskey, you said. Well, we came here, we got even more drunk, I was about to pass out, you offered to let me have your bed, I accepted." She got out of the bed, her robes falling down around her as she stood, swaying slightly. "I was a bit surprised when you joined me in bed though." She said with a wicked smile. "But you were out cold before your head even hit the pillow. The perfect gentleman. Must have forgotten it was already taken, you drunken sod." She teased.

Harry's heart leaped. "So, you mean we didn't… you know?"

"What? Have sex?" She laughed, and made a show of straightening her robes. "One typically does so without clothes on, Harry."

He cursed himself for panicking, noting they were both fully clothed. "Oh, thank god." He sighed.

"Hey! I'll have you know there are PLENTY of men who would kill to bed me!" She said in an insulted tone.

"Oh, no! I didn't mean that you're not attractive! I mean, you are, very. Attractive, that is. It's just that I kinda have a girl that things are a bit weird with and-" He rambled on, before Céline quieted him with a barking laugh.

"I'm sorry Harry. I was just teasing you. My god, it's so easy sometimes." She laughed. "I am starving. Breakfast?"

Harry just nodded, steadying himself both mentally and physically for the trek down to the Great Hall.

"You two look like crap." René said, beaming at them as they sat down next to him. "'Arry, zat firewhiskey was fantastique!"

"Urh. Don't mention anything containing alcohol." Harry said with a groan. He shoot his friend a dirty look. "How come you are so chipper?"

"Oh, good preparation. When I go drinking, I always make sure to drink plenty of water before bed, and zake one of zese when I wake up." René said, pulling out a glass vial. "My own recipe. Clears ze mind, purges ze body. Ze perfect hangover cure."

"Do you happen to have more of those?" Céline said, eyeing the vial longingly.

"Oui. Took ze liberty of bringing you some." He said, handing one vial to Harry, and one to Céline. Harry drank his as soon as he could unstop it, and the effect was immediate. His head stopped hurting, his nausea faded, and the room stopped moving.

"This thing is amazing!" Said Harry, grinning as he filled his plate. "Any chance you could give me a few vials for the Holydays, just in case."

"Sure." René pulled half a dozen from his robes. "I 'ad some prepared in case more of us needed a little pick me up."

"That's brilliant!" Harry grinned as he pocketed the vials. The rest of breakfast was a pleasant affair, with them discussing the night before. When they were almost finished, a haggard looking professor Brasique almost crawled into her chair. She truly looked the way Harry had felt that morning, but with the added torture of sucking on a dozen lemons. René went to give her a vial before bidding them goodbye. Harry and Céline agreed to meet back in the entrance hall in an hour, giving them enough time to pack and get ready.


	4. Chapter Four: A Very Merry Chirstmas

**Chapter Four: A Very Merry Christmas**

Harry

Seeing the The Quartier Magique for the first time was almost as wonderful as it had been the first time he stepped into the Diagon Alley. He and Céline had taken the Floo Network for a spin, appearing at a wide section of Fireplaces at the end of a long, straight street. At the far end of the street stood a grand marble building with classical columns. The French branch of the Gringotts bank looked very similar to the one in London.

There were rows of shops, selling everything from robes and hats, to wands, cauldrons, potions and alchemical ingredients. He saw a few restaurants, bakeries and cafés, with customers sitting outside by rounded tables, enjoying the heating charms in the cold weather. He noted that the people were dressed slightly differently from the witches and wizards of Britain. Less Charles Dickens, more the roaring twenties in style.

"Wow." He said, his mind not able to grasp any firmer sentiments at the time.

"I know. It is quite lovely, non?" Céline smiled. "Now come. You wanted to do some shopping, yes?"

"Yeah. That be great."

They spent hours walking around, just looking at the shops and buying a few items. Harry spent over half an hour in a shop selling Quidditch Supplies, longing for the days he used to play. He had caught a few matches at Bauxbatons, but watching the sport couldn't hold a candle to playing it. A short, balding man had approached him to see if he needed any assistance, but when the man saw his scar, he dropped the French and started speaking in a broad Irish dialect. It turned out that Mr. Doyle had moved to France fifteen years ago to be with his wife, and had taken over her father's shop.

When Harry had expressed interest in a Firebolt, Mr. Doyle had practically forced it on him. Harry had to haggle the man up to a third of the price, and Mr. Doyle looked offended at the very suggestion that he would pay a knut more.

"I won't hear of tha' Mr. Potter. Me whole family suffered under you-know-who. Me mum an' da were killed by those bastards, and me sister was tortured. You're a god's damned hero in my book!" Mr Doyle said, close to tears as he shook Harry's hand.

In the end, he left the store with a brand new Firebolt, a maintenance kit, and a complete set of protective gear, in fine Italian leather, with delicate silk inlays. All for less money than the gear and the kit alone would have cost He said his goodbyes to Mr. Doyle, and shook his hand furiously. Harry had never been comfortable with the hero-worship that followed him, but he was too polite to say so to kind old Mr. Doyle. Céline had a strange smirk on her lips as she watched him when they excited.

"Does that happen to you a lot?" She asked as they headed down the street.

"More often than I'd like." Murmured Harry. Their next stop was a dress shop, where she helped him pick out a dress in the latest French Witch fashion for Ginny. He had promised her something posh after all, and what was more posh and French than a laced dress that would make her friends green with envy.

He picked out a toy broom, a toy wand and a selection of stuffed animals and building blocks for his godson. He got a few bottles of Cognac and wine, selected with Céline's help. Some he would keep, some he would send as gifts for Headmistresses McGonagall and Maxime, and a bottle the size of medium dog for Hagrid.

They sat down for dinner at a restaurant overlooking the busy street, with heating charms surrounding the outdoor seating area. As they waited for their food, they chatted and watched the crowd rushing past this way or that. Harry was once again impressed with Hermione's gift. The briefcase had no problem holding all his purchases, once again proving her innovative and brilliant mind. It truly ranked among his most beloved possessions, even after owning it for such a short time. After dinner, they continued their shopping, Céline picking up gifts for her family, and Harry finding a few more gifts. They parted ways in the evening, after Harry rented a room at an inn at the entry of the street. They exchanged a hug before Céline stepped into one of the fireplaces and vanished in a plume of green flames.

His trip back to Britain was thankfully uneventful. He rose at seven, took a shower, and had a pleasant breakfast at one of the bakeries. He sampled a few pastries that made his mouth water, and ended up buying an entire basket full of them for Ron. After one last look around the street, he headed to the fireplaces and floo powder powered his way to the French Ministry. A slightly haggard-looking Monsieur Delacour greeted him and walked him over to his portkey to London. The small man had always looked beyond pristine when Harry had seen him, but there were small bags under his eyes, and his suit looked rumpled. He was nonetheless pleasant and smiling, even if some of the smiles looked forced to Harry. He shook Harry's hand, wished him a happy Christmas, and went running off towards a staircase.

The portkey was an old tea kettle, and with the familiar pull behind his bellybutton, he was yanked to the British Ministry. He wobbled unsteadily for a bit, before regaining his breath and balance. When he was sure he stood firmly on his own two legs, he looked around at the Ministry lobby, now decked out in lavish Christmas decorations. He put down the kettle on a small pedestal next to him, and before he could turn around completely, there was a loud squeal, and he found himself nuzzled in a mane of curly brown hair.

"Harry! It's so good to see you! I have missed you so much!" Hermione said, giving him a hug that almost knocked the breath from him.

"Hermione! It's good to see you too! I didn't think you'd come to welcome me." Harry said grinning, hugging his friend in return.

"Aye mate. Couldn't let the big hero return without a proper welcome now, could we?" Ron said as he strode over with a huge grin on his face. He slapped Harry on the back as he gave him a quick hug of his own.

They had caused a little scene, and people started pointing as they saw Harry Potter in the flesh, after the man being missing from public life for months. As a small crowd started to form, Ron deftly plowed a path through it, towing Harry and Hermione in his wake.

"Where to, Harry?" Ron asked.

"My place for a spot of tea, then lunch?" Harry replied with a grin. "I'll see you there." With no further words, he twisted in place and disapparated.

Grimmauld Place Twelve was much as he had left it when heading to France. He had done a bit of redecorating, and the house seemed a bit lighter now than it had been when he first saw it. He had instructed Kreacher to keep the house in order, and to his surprise, the place was spotless. With a loud _Crack!_ The wizened old House Elf appeared.

"Welcome back, young master Potter. Kreacher has kept on cleaning as commanded. Is there anything Kreacher can do for Master?" He asked in his cracking voice, sketching a short bow.

"Thank you, Kreacher. Some tea would be nice, actually. Could you bring it to my study, please? I expect company soon." Harry said, hanging his travel cloak on a peg at the door.

"Of course, Master. Kreacher will be glad to serve young master and his visitors." With a small bow and a crack, the house elf was gone.

Harry hadn't even closed the door before his two friends appeared with two small pops. They followed him up to his study, where they took their usual seats. Before Harry's butt even touched his chair, Kreacher arrived with the tea, placing it on the table before bowing and leaving, muttering to himself about mudbloods and blood traitors. Ron got a bit stiff at the comments, but Hermione placed a loving hand on his thigh, calming him.

"So. How was France?" Hermione smiled as she poured herself some tea.

"Good. It is much warmer at Bauxbatons than Hogwarts. And the school looks like a palace fit for a king. It doesn't have the good old charm of Hogwarts thou. But by Merlin, the school and the grounds are beautiful." Answered Harry.

"And how does the teaching go?" Ron asked, gulping down his first cup in two great swallows.

"Better than I feared it would. My students seem to grasp the basics very easily. They have an outstanding grounding in the theories and academia of magic, but lack the focus on practice and practicality we were taught. I think you'd love the place, Hermione."

They stayed at his study for hours, catching up on the day to day of their lives. Harry produced the basket of pastries from his briefcase, to Ron's enthusiastic approval. He tore into it with abandon, and quickly found his favorites. Kreacher appeared with a new kettle after a while, and Harry noted that it had become dark outside the window. He glanced at his watch, noting they had sat there for almost five hours. As soon as he realized the time, he felt a pang of hunger. They decided to head out for dinner, and Hermione chose a cozy muggle restaurant not far from the Ministry that she frequented for lunch.

The dinner was a pleasant affair. As they chatted, Harry realized just how much he had missed his two best friends. They both looked a bit harassed at the seams, but they were more of their old selves than they had been when he left. Hermione had been busy at work at the Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, helping with the rebuilding effort and already pushing for reform relating to House Elfs, Centaurs and Goblins. She was glowing with pride and enthusiasm as she talked about her work, and Harry could only smile. She had several laws written up, waiting for processing, banning abuse and mistreatment. She reminded him so much of her fervor during her S.P.E.W days.

Ron related that things were still hectic at the Auror's Office. There were very few Death Eaters still remaining at large, and most of them had gone into hiding. Most Snatchers had been caught and put on trial, and there were no more attacks. On the other hand, Pure Dawn had established themselves in Britain, but they remained mostly silent in the political sphere. They pushed for restriction of magic for muggleborn wizard and witches, but they had gotten very little traction thus far, due to the tyranny of Voldemort and his cronies fresh in everyone's mind. Harry felt disgusted that another Pure Blood First group had gained any support at all, but Ron assured him that they were keeping a very watchful eye on the situation.

They stayed at the restaurant until almost midnight, enjoying the food, the drink and the company. When they finally parted ways, it was with light minds and hearts. As Harry laid down in his bed that night, he fell asleep quickly, exhausted from the long day. When he woke up the following morning, his latest nightmares fresh in mind, he nonetheless felt a slight peace. It was good to be back in Britain.

The next days he was busy visiting with his godson and friends. He even went for a little last minute shopping. The news from eastern and southern Europe was far from good. Even with Christmas approaching, there were reports of increased unrest, demonstrations and in some cases attacks across Ukraine, Bulgaria, Hungary, Greece, Poland and even the Baltic States. He had read through every publication he could find about Pure Dawn in Britain, but like Ron had said, they were very few in number, and didn't have much traction. He tried not to let him bother him, but he felt a smoldering fury that after all that had been sacrificed against Voldemort, after all the death and torment and destruction, that there were still people willing to follow down that very path.

Ginny

The Christmas holiday had not come soon enough for Ginny. Hogwarts had been a dreary shithole last year, and thou the Death Eaters had been sent packing, and their master killed on the school grounds, the castle still had a demure feeling to it. It was almost as if the shadow of the last year hung over the place, and, she had to admit, over her and several of the other students and teachers as well. Even her elevation to Team Captain on the Quidditch team did little to lighten her mood. Flying gave her comfort, but her faithful old broom had started failing, steering slightly to the left.

She had missed Harry so terribly. They had barely had a chance to talk with everything going on. After the Battle of Hogwarts, she had wanted to be near him so bad, but it seemed the entire universe was conspiring to keep them apart. _Just let it bloody try_ she growled at the thought. She had set her mind on Harry, and she would be trice damned if she let anything come between them now. Just a few more months, and she would be out of school, free to do as she pleased.

But despite her feelings and longing to be with him, they hadn't seen each other for months. After the battle, her mom had refused to have any of her children out of her sight, and Harry had been caught up in a storm of people wanting a piece of him. He had joined the Aurors and spent the summer tracking down and catching Death Eaters and Snatchers. And she had been stuck at the Burrow, in a house laden with grief. She had cried for weeks over Fred, and her family seemed so much smaller for his loss.

And before she had had time to properly grieve, get her feelings sorted and had more than two minutes together with the love of her life, she found herself standing at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, saying goodbye to him and kissing him awkwardly on the cheek before being carried away to school aboard the Hogwarts Express. And of course, he had gone and left the whole bloody country. Not that it mattered much, with her still in school, but the thought that he was so far away was unsettling to her.

He had been a faithful pen-pal this year, luckily, but the letters were just not enough. She found herself needing him, needing to be near him, hold him, kiss him. When the Christmas break arrived, she was thrilled. She needed some time to herself, and with Harry. She had decided that they had spent far too much time apart, and leaving their relationship in a strange, undefined place. She wanted so bad to let him know how much she loved him, and she had a plan to let him know just how much over Christmas.

She had heard from Ron during breakfast that Harry had arrived back to England the day before, which explained why Ron had been home so late. Her heart had started racing when she heard he was back in the country, and she wanted to disapparate to see him so bad, but her Mom had an entire day of cleaning all planned out for her. Oh how much fun. But Harry was back in the country, she had over two more weeks off, and he was spending Christmas with them. She would get her chance, and she would take it.

She spent the next days helping her mother put everything in order for Christmas. There was a lot to do, for sure, but she had a sneaky suspicion that she was kept busy on purpose to keep her around the house, and not go gallivanting off somewhere. On Tuesday they went to Diagon Alley to do some shopping, with only two days left before Christmas Eve. She had saved up a little money, and looked forward to spend some of it. She had a few gifts to buy anyway, including one for Harry.

Diagon Alley had come a long way since the end of the war. Several shops had reopened, including Ollivander's, and a few new ones had sprouted. There were decorations everywhere, as if the entire Diagon Alley had agreed to wash away the stain of the last year by spreading cheer. He could appreciate the effort, if nothing more.

She had been pleased to see that Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes were thriving. She knew that George felt the loss of Fred like his own body and soul had been ripped apart, and was glad that he had the shop to keep himself busy. Lee Jordan had been a tremendous help to her brother, and had become George's partner, helping him run the shop. She stopped by to say hi, but could see they were too busy for idle chatting. She spent the day doing mostly window-shopping, eyeing a new broom but knowing in her heart she would never be able to afford it. She had finished shopping and were just enjoying being out and about, when her mother caught up to her, bristling with her filled bags, and eager to return home.

Before she even knew it, it was Christmas Eve, and The Burrow started slowly filling up. Percy, Bill and Fleur, Charlie and George were all coming. With the addition of Harry and Ron as well, the house would be full. Hermione was spending Christmas with her family, after finally being able to track them down in Australia and undo the memory altering charm she had put them under. This meant that Ginny would have her room to herself, luckily. She was prepping for the dessert when there was a knock on the kitchen door. She looked out the window, and saw a familiar tussled black hair, and her heart skipped a beat, before it started pounding in her chest with vengeance.

Harry

When Christmas Eve arrived, he visited Teddy and Andromeda, and stayed for lunch. He was happy to learn that Andromeda had gotten quite a lot of help and support from various friends of Tonks and Remus, who had sworn that their son would know how much their parents had loved him. Harry felt pride and joy swell in his chest as he saw the massive pile of presents under the Christmas tree, a testament to the legacy left to him. Harry had added his own gifts to the pile, and was chatting with her over a cup of tea, sweetened with honey after lunch. He said his goodbyes, promising to visit again in the next few days, and departed for The Burrow.

When he knocked on the kitchen door, it swung open and he was struck by a petite red haired lightning bolt as Ginny wrapped herself around him and planted a fierce kiss on his lips. He was too stunned at first to do anything but just stand there like a slightly retarded statue, before his limbs unfroze, and he wrapped his arms around her and returned her kiss. She felt so firm, soft and warm pressed to his body, and her soft lips on his was driving him mad. He had missed her so much over the months, and had missed kissing her for far longer. He felt a stirring hunger from deep within as he deepened the kiss, wanting ever more.

"Oy! That's still my sister you know!" Ron called from behind him, having apparated a little after Harry. "I'm ok with you two dating, if that's what you're doing, but try not to snog each other's brains out in front of me, yeah?"

They broke apart, Harry stepping back and feeling a blush creep up his face, and Ginny cursed silently.

"Bloody hell Ron! Weren't you supposed to visit Hermione?" Ginny said, turning her flustered smoldering annoyance at her brother. "And if I want to snog Harry, I will bloody well snog Harry, you got that?"

"Relax! Relax! Just teasing!" Said Ron, holding his hands up in surrender with a smirk on his face. "Bill here yet?" he asked as he lowered his hands and headed towards the door.

"Yeah. In the living room. Now, Sod off." Ginny hissed, and smacked Ron on the back of the head as he passed, making him laugh hard.

"So… I've missed you." Said Harry, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Yeah. I missed you too." Ginny looked a bit redder than usual, but if it was embarrassment or annoyance he couldn't tell. He had no idea what to say, and kept opening his mouth and closing it, feeling like a fool as he struggled to find the words.

"So. We should maybe talk?" Ginny said, biting her lip nervously as she looked at him.

"Yeah." He swallowed for no reason, as his eyes fixated on her soft, plump lips. "Talk." He took a step forward, wanting to feel her in his arms again, when Mrs. Weasley appeared in the kitchen.

"Ah! Harry! So good to see you!" She said, rushing over to embrace him in a tight bear hug. She let go of the hug, but held him in a firm grip as she looked him over. "You look well, Dear. A bit thin still. Don't they feed you in France?" She fussed over him as she lead them into the house and into the living room. He exchanged hugs with George, Fleur and Bill, shook Mr. Weasley's hand and Percy's, before being ushered into a stuffed chair and had a cup of tea thrusted into his hand as they bombarded him with questions about France. Fleur was a bit miffed that her sister was struggling with his classes, and said she would have words with her when she and Bill went to visit in a few days.

Ginny had taken the seat closest to him, and kept stealing glances. After a while, Mrs. Weasley announced that dinner was ready, and they trooped into the kitchen. Christmas dinner at The Burrow had a tendency to end with Harry so full he was barely able to move, and it seemed this year would not be the year that tradition was broken. When every course had been consumed and cleaned away, and dessert had been partaken of with reckless abandon, They rolled their way into the living room once more, collapsing into their chosen seats like sacks of potatoes, and just drowsily conversing. At some point, biscuits and small cakes were placed on the table, along with a few bottles of wine and butterbeer.

Harry and Ginny had ended up on the couch together, and as people started drifting off to bed, she leaned over and whispered into his ear.

"I have something for you. Come to my room after everyone is asleep, please?"

He just looked at her shocked at the invitation, but nodded. She left for bed half an hour later, leaving Harry, Ron, Mr. Weasley and Charlie awake and chatting about the situation in Europe.

"Things are far worse than the papers tell in Romania," Charlie said, filling his cup with more wine while he talked. "People are disappearing. Just a few, but the pattern is too familiar to be coincidence. The network I recruited last year has reformed, preparing to resist. I'm telling you, Romania might fall if the ministry doesn't take action soon."

"I talked with Shacklebolt," Mr. Weasley said, leaning in. "He is aware, and has contacted the Romanian ministry several times, offering help. The Romanians, however, insists that there is no trouble, and that they are well prepared."

"I spoke with Roger Pewtersmith in foreign affairs. He told me the Germans and French have been in contact. Apparently they want to cooperate in suppressing the violence if it spreads." Ron chimed in.

"That's good, but it might not be enough if this thing spreads to more countries. God forbid they actually gain real power." Charlie said, yawning. "At least Britain is in no danger this far. Pure Dawn worries me, and their rhetoric is dangerously close to Voldemort's, but they do seem to lack a strong figurehead so far. That may be their biggest weakness. They may even run out of steam before anything comes of them." Drained his cup, he said goodnight and headed to bed, leaving the others. They sat in silence for a few moments, finishing their drink. As Mr. Weasley and Ron got up to go to bed, Harry stayed behind, telling Ron he needed to finish a few letters. Ron just shrugged, yawned, and waved him goodnight as he trooped towards the stairs and disappeared.

Harry sat immobile on the couch for several long minutes, trying to work out how to counteract the spreading reach of Pure Dawn. He reminded himself that Ginny had wanted him to stop by her room on the way to bed. He felt curious as to what she had for him that was such a secret, but reasoned he would find out soon enough. He rose from his comfortable position, got his briefcase and deposited his presents by the tree. He then headed up the stairs, stopping at Ginny's room. He knocked lightly on the door, and was surprised when it swung open and she pulled him inside. She led him to her bed, and pushed him down on it.

As she strode over to her door and locked it, she cast a muffliato charm. Harry noted she was just dressed in a bath robe, and felt himself blush. She stood in front of him, looking at the floor for a long moment, before rising her eyes to meet his. He saw that she was nervous about something, and her cheeks had a delicious rose red tint to them.

"So. I know we haven't really figured out where we stand yet, with everything." She stuttered a bit, but her voice got steadier as she continued, a fierce determination and something he didn't recognize shining in her eyes. "But damn it! I love you Harry Potter. I love you, and I always have. And even with everything seeming to conspire against us, I say screw it! I want you, and I don't want to wait any longer."

With slow movements, she disrobed, revealing that she was completely nude. Harry stared in open wonder at her naked body, taking in her creamy freckled skin, her slender figure, her rounded, firm breasts and her shapely curves. He felt like he was burning up, and falling off a cliff, and drowning all at the same time. His mouth felt dry, he had trouble even forming a coherent thought, except that she was truly, stunningly beautiful.

"So… Do you want me, Harry?" She asked nervously, biting her lower lip as she stood naked before him. Somewhere, deep down in his being, a fiery passion was stoked to a fierce pitch. Without even thinking, he grabbed her, pulling her down on him, his hands exploring every inch of her body as his lips sought hers. Giving her a tiny respite from his administration, he broke the kiss, looked her dead in the eyes and whispered "Yes".

Christmas eve had turned from food and politics to hot fiery passion. He had disrobed quickly, joining her naked in bed, using his hands, mouth and tongue to explore her body, coaxing gasps and moans from her as he discovered in small doses what she liked and where she enjoyed being touched. He payed attention to her breasts, massaging them as they kissed, feeling how Ginny started breathing heavier and moaned into their kiss. She started bucking herself against him, feeling his arousal press against her. When his fingers finally found her mound, it was wet and slick with her juices. When she grabbed him and placed him at her entrance, begging him to be her first, he didn't need to be told twice.

As he moved in her, sharing kisses in their passion, she moaned beneath him. First in pain, then in pleasure. Harry had no idea how long they stayed like that, coupled together in Ginny's bed, their bodies intertwined as they sought each other's pleasure. When she climaxed around him, it was enough to push him over the limit. He felt himself erupting within her, his entire body going rigid as she rode his orgasm, rolling her hips into him to prolong it.

Afterwards, they lay in bed, her head resting on his chest as they enjoyed the sensations of just being close to each other. They basked in the bliss and glory of what they had shared, chatting idly until Ginny reluctantly kicked him out of bed. She watched him dress with hungry eyes, but limited herself to giving him a kiss before he left her room.

When he stood in the empty hallway, Harry had a hard time not believing it had all been a dream. He felt like he was walking on clouds as headed up the stairs to Ron's room, and slipped in. Ron was snoring soundly, not a care in the world, and Harry grinned. As he laid down to sleep, he felt like a giggling school girl, and had to struggle to not laugh out loud. If there had been any doubt as to their relationship before, Ginny had promptly removed any doubt in the most spectacular way possible. For the first time Harry could remember, he went to sleep with a mind completely at ease, and not even the usual nightmares could do anything to ruin the deep bliss he was feeling.


	5. Chapter Five: Christmas Tidings

**Chapter Five: Christmas Tidings, Christmas Fightings**

Harry

When Harry woke on Christmas day, he felt like there was nothing in the world that could bring him down. Last night had been the best of his life, and even if he looked out the window to find a reincarnated Voldemort dancing river dance with a basilisk and a hundred Death Eaters, he would face it with a smile. Even the fact that Ron had woken him by banging his toe on his desk leg, and set off a salvo of curses that the saltiest of seamen would blush at, did nothing to sour his mood.

"Good morning." Harry said with a broad smile as he sat up in bed.

"Fuck off you blooming idiot!" Cursed Ron as he jumped around on one foot, massaging his other. Harry couldn't help but laugh.

"Oh don't be like that Won-Won. It's Christmas, innit?" He chuckled as he got out of bed and got dressed. Ron gave him a death glare at Harry using his ex-girlfriend's completely embarrassing nickname for him.

"Anyone else up?" Harry asked as he pulled on his t-shirt.

"Yeah. Think so. Don't worry thou. Mum insisted we all open out presents downstairs in unison."

The two boys headed downstairs to the living room, being the last to arrive. There were sandwiches and tea on the table, and the rest of the Weasleys were already seated, enjoying their morning tea and a bit to eat. Harry chose the loveseat, next to Ginny, who blushed slightly when he sat down next to her.

"Good morning." He said, giving her a quick squeeze of the hand.

"Morning" she replied, smiling at him.

"Ah! Finally! I was about to go wake you two!" Mrs. Weasley said, hurrying into the room with another plate of sandwiches. "Very well, go on!" She said, gesturing for the huge pile of gifts. Percy took charge of the frenzy that would certainly follow, by picking up one gift at the time, reading the label out loud and handing it to the person in question.

Harry got a few books, including a set on defensive and offensive spells from Hermione, some socks, a really nice tie, a bottle of aged Irish whiskey, a case of butterbeer, the traditional jumper from Mrs. Weasley, a subscription to _The Chaser_ (an international Quidditch magazine) from Ginny, and a sweet smelling plant from Neville with a note saying it would help him relax. Ron had gotten him a mirror that showed him when his enemies were near, something he remembered from Madeye's office.

Harry had gotten Ron a snappy trench coat in dragonhide leather, that would repel minor spells. A useful thing for an Auror, he had surmised. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley got a two weeks, all-inclusive vacation to America, where they could get away and unwind for a bit. He had found decent to brilliant gifts to the lot of them, and Ginny had blushed a bit when she opened the dress he had gotten her, but thanked him with a kiss on the cheek.

The entire room went still as Ginny's name was read on the label of a huge, long packet they had all been curious of. Harry knew, of course, since he had bought it, and had it packed in a fitted wooden box. She tore off the wrapping paper with great abandon, revealing the red and gold wooden box with the golden plaque bearing the inscription _Ginevra Molly Weasley_. She looked up at him in confusion.

"It's beautiful, but what is it?" she said.

"That's just the box I had made for it. Look inside." He said with a broad smile, feeling a little self-conscious. Ok, he had gone way overboard with presents, but what the hell! She was his girlfriend now anyway.

With shaking hands, she opened the latches holding the lid closed, and opened it. Her jaw dropped to the floor as she stared wide eyed at her present. For a few heartbeats, no one spoke as she admired her gift in its box.

"Go on, Ginny. What is it. Show us!" Ron called from his armchair, as he stuffed a sandwich in his face. With trembling hands, Ginny reached into the box and pulled out the Firebolt, holding it with awe for everyone to see.

"Bloody Hell!" Ron shouted, spitting pieces of sandwich all over the table. "Is that.."

"A Firebolt!" George shouted in excitement.

"Harry… Are you _mad?!_ " Ginny said, looking between the broom and Harry

"No. Well, maybe. A little. But a brilliant Quidditch player should have a broom to match her abilities. You deserve it." He said with a grin.

"I-I can't! It's too much! It must have cost a fortune!" She sputtered as her family admired the broom in her hands.

"It wasn't that bad. The fellow who sold it to me practically threw it at me. I had to talk him up in price." Harry said, waving it off. "Anyway, you need a new broom. Your old one is serviceable, but it limits your skills. Just promise to invite me to a game so I can see you break it in, yeah? Besides. There's more in the box. Check it out."

She reluctantly handed the broom over to Bill, who was eager to study it, and rummaged through the box, retrieving her brand new pads and gear. As he saw her reaction to her new broom and gear, tears shining in her eyes, he knew he had caught the snitch with his gifts, so to speak. When she threw herself around his neck and kissed him full on the lips in front of her entire family, to wolf whistling and cheers from Charlie, Bill and George, a groan from Ron, and a disapproving Harrumph from Percy, Harry blushed so hard his face probably matched her hair. As she pulled away she whispered into his ear so only he could hear.

"You utter, fantastic bastard Harry Potter. I want to break it in right now, before riding another broom I really like, but I am just too sore…"

Harry snorted a laugh at that, before kissing her on the forehead as they broke apart. Christmas day was a complete success. The rest of the day was spent with the Weasleys, eating, drinking and chatting. Ginny had taken the broom out for a few laps around the orchard, despite her protestation to Harry of being sore, to the wild applause of her brothers and Harry. In the evening, he said his goodbyes to the Weasleys, sent his regards to Fleur's family, and disapparated.

The next morning's news finally managed to put a dent in Harry's bliss. As he sat over his breakfast with a steaming hot cup of tea and the fresh edition of The Daily Prophet, a sense of dread snuck up on him. He stared at the front page in disbelief as the headline read: MINISTRY IN UPROAR: BALKANS FALLEN TO PURE DAWN.

Harry's heart raced as he turned the pages, reading.

 _It was reported that the Bulgarian Minister of Magic, Igoris Krawyn, was forced to step down from his position on the 25_ _th_ _of December, due to an extraordinary meeting in the Parliament for a vote of no confidence. Shortly thereafter, Pjotr Lydjev, Leader of the Bulgarian wing of Pure Dawn, was elected temporary Minister of Magic, sparking huge demonstrations in the Balkans. A few hours later, it was reported that the Balkan Ministry had fallen to a coup. At 22:00 hours, 10 hours after it was established that Pure Dawn had secured power in Bulgaria, Pure Dawn declared they had seized power, and would reestablish order._

Harry's heart sunk in his chest. This could only mean trouble. He read the rest of the story, seeking any details, but there was little to be had. It seemed that there was renewed unrest in Greece and Ukraine, and even the few Pure Dawn supporters in Britain were more vocal. Shacklebolt had assured the public that the British Ministry was ready to defend against any and all enemies, and would not allow any attacks or discrimination based on blood status. Harry had an ingrained distrust of politicians, but he did trust whole-heartedly in Shacklebolt.

It was with a heavy heart that he met Ron, Ginny and Hermione for dinner that night, in a private room at the leaky cauldron. He was sitting alone waiting for them for almost two hours, before a haggard looking Hermione showed up.

"So sorry Harry! Ron is on the way with Ginny." She said as she slumped into her chair, sighing with relief.

"Hectic day I take it?" Harry said as he sipped his butterbeer. He had already gone through a few more than he should have, but the wait had been a strain.

"Yeah. Emergency meetings."

"Anything to worry about?"

"Honestly?" She said with another sigh. "Yes. Britain won't fall easily, but there have been attacks in Ukraine, Austria, Italy, Greece and Poland.The Germans and the French have alerted us that they have mobilized auxiliaries from other departments into their Aurors, in case unrest spreads further. So yes. Be worried, but not too much. I am not allowed to say this, really, but it is you, so… We have been contacted by people in the Balkans and Bulgaria that wants our help resisting. As of right now, we have gotten no reason to act, but we are keeping an eye on the situation. Well, _they_ are." She said grabbing one of his unopened butterbeers and gulping it down.

"They?" Harry asked

"I'll explain later. I think I hear Ron now." She said waving the bottle towards the door. Sure enough, Ron come into the room, looking more haggard than Hermione.

"Sorry mate, rough day." He said as Ginny entered behind him, and went right to Harry and planted a kiss on his lips.

"Yeah, I figured." Harry said as Ginny sat down. "It's ok. Just glad you could make it."

Tom arrived not long after with a menu and some drinks, and they settled in, chatting and trying to avoid the topic of the brewing troubles on the continent.

"So…" Hermione said, clearing her throat. "I have something to tell you all. Starting this term, I am going back to Hogwarts."

"What?" Said Harry.

"WHY?" Said Ron.

"How?" asked Ginny.

"I really feel like I should finish my education. It's important! What if I need to look for a new job? Or am refused advancement cause I lack my N.E. ? It's been keeping me up at nights!"

"Hermione. You are a goddamned hero. No one in the entire world would refuse your resume!" Ron said, rolling his eyes.

"But I need to do this! It's been bothering me since the start of the year!" Hermione said defensively.

"Blimey. Europe is slowly falling apart, we've had to hunt down Death Eaters, Snatchers, werewolves, giants, dementors, and oh yeah, bloody huge freaking spiders! Some of which are still on the loose, and what is keeping you up at night? Your grades?" Ron said disbelieving, with a slight smile on his lips. "That's mental."

"It's not mental! It's my future, Ron! _OUR_ future, and I-" He silenced her with a kiss on the mouth as she built up to argue. The air left her as she responded to his lips. He broke it off, laying a palm lovingly on her cheek, looked her right in the eyes and said.

"Yeah. It is mental. You've always been mental. Brilliantly mental, and that's one of the things I love about you."

Hermione blushed at his words, and smiled, giving him a quick kiss before seemingly remembering that they were amongst company.

"So… How will that work?" Harry asked, grinning wickedly.

"Well, I have talked with Professor McGonagall, and she agrees that it is possible. It will be hard, but I believe I can do it. I already arranged with my head of department for leave until the summer, so it really comes down to how hard and efficiently I can study." Hermione said, twining her fingers a little.

"Are you kidding me? Those N.E. won't know what hit them! You're Hermione _Freaking_ Granger! Scourge of Dark Wizards and exams alike! Reader of books and absorber of information!" Ron said rising his glass.

"Rider of Dragons, Slayer of tasks! Breaker of Gringotts! No problem too deep, no hinder too steep!" Harry chimed in, rising his own.

"Charmer of teachers, resister of death! The brightest, bad witch that Hogwarts have seen yet!" Ginny shouted, rising her own. "To Hermione Granger going back to school!"

They cheered and hooted, making Hermione embarrassed but glowing with happiness.

"So, where will you be sleeping? Our dorms will be used by the first years." Harry asked after a ruckus round of drinks.

"Yeah! Are you bunking with me?" Ginny asked eagerly. "There should be enough room!"

"I have no idea, honestly. I didn't think to ask. I will write Professor McGonagall tomorrow…"

They sat there for hours, just enjoying each other's company until Ron and Hermione had to leave. They did have work in the morning after all. Ginny was reluctant to leave, wanting to spend more time with him, but she had promised her mother to come back with Ron. They parted, and promised to meet for lunch the next day.

The next morning dawned with even more bad news, as the Daily Prophet declared on the front page that the Greek Minister of Magic had stepped down due to the pressure, and Pure Dawn had taken yet another ministry. What infuriated Harry was an article on page fourteen, by none other than his least favorite 'journalist' in the entire frigging world; Rita Skeeter.

 _Europe in Darkness: Where is Harry Potter?_

 _Harry James Potter, the boy who lived, and the man responsible for the defeat of you-know-who last May, seems to have disappeared from the face of the earth. After his years long campaign against the dark lord, against public opinion and all odds, he seems to have completely turned his back on the wizarding world when it once again needs him the most. With people crying out for his help from Spain to the Balkans, there have been no word from the elusive Mr. Potter. Sources that The Daily Prophet has been in contact with, can inform that Mr. Potter is currently on an extended stay in France. This reporter remains skeptical to Mr. Potter's dedication to stand firm against those who would overturn our society, when it seems he has run off to the French Riviera for vacation, when the world calls for him to once again be a rallying point for the potential dark days ahead…_

Harry ripped out the page and balled it up in his fist in rage before even reading the whole thing. He sincerely wished he could drop a dozen hungry Hungarian Horntails on her smug face, and watch the ensuing frenzy while enjoying a large cup of popcorn. Feeling in a sour mood, he ate his breakfast in peace before heading over to the Burrow to spend some time with Ginny before lunch. Just being with her, he found, relaxed him immensely. It was as if her mere presence was enough to drive away the building stress and tension he was feeling. They spent a few hour hours just talking, making out in the orchard, and even having another round of horizontal dancing, before they had to leave to meet up with Ron and Hermione.

They had decided on a small but cozy café at Diagon Alley for lunch, and since the sun was shining, they took their meal outside, aided by a few heating charms to keep the cold at bay. Hermione had spent some time doing some shopping for school supplies while she waited for the others, and had put her beaded bag to good use once more, carrying everything she had bought. While they waited for their food, the conversation inevitably turned to the topic of today's paper.

"So, did you catch the Prophet yet?" Ron asked nervously, eying Harry.

"Yeah. Rita Skeeter. I _really_ wished she was a Death Eater, you know? Blasting her in the face with a few nasty hexes would be amazing." Harry sighed. "She really is desperate for attention thou, aint she?"

"Yeah. We had to put an Auror on her after this morning. Seems she pissed a lot of people off with her slandering. You've got quite a few die hard supporters you know." Ron said grinning. "I'm told there were death threats."

"Good!" Ginny fumed "If I ever meet that _bitch_ I am gonna tear her a new one."

Harry felt a small prickling in the back of his mind, as if he was being watched. He did his best to ignore it and kept talking, but he just could not shake it.

"- agree with that, but there are a lot of people who look to you as a symbol now Harry. I know it's not fair, but with Dumbledore gone, people need someone to put their faith in. I hate to say it, but –" Hermione was saying, as Harry drew his wand under the table. There was something bothering him, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He noted some shadows moving behind him. _I'm getting paranoid_ He thought, but kept his wand ready.

"- really no choice but to go along with it for now, if nothing else than to put people's minds at ease. Harry? You listening?" Hermione was still talking, but Harry's eyes were fixed on the window behind her. It was sunny, but he could still see a reflection. There were six people standing in the street behind him, and that made him twitchy. When he saw one of them rise its arms, wand in hand and aiming at him, he acted on instinct.

He shoved Ginny down to the ground as he sprung to his feet and sprung around. As a man in a dark hood shouted "For a Pure Britain!" another shouted "Avada Kadavra!" Harry had already acted, using his wand to throw a table in front of the curse to block it. He fired off a few stupefys and parried a few incoming hexes. Hermione and Ron were on their feet in moments, wand out and ready as they joined the fray. He made sure to cover Ginny as she got back on her feet, wand in hand. In mere moments, a nice lunch amongst friends had turned into a duel on life and death as the two sides exchanged hexes. Two more hooded figures had joined the six in the street, making the fight patently unfair.

Diagon Alley had erupted into shouts of panics, cries for help, people fleeing and of course, the blasts and cracks of spells being thrown around like water balloons at summer. Windows exploded into shards of sharp glass, flying this way or that. Plates and mugs went flying as people fled their tables, knocking over the tables, chairs and each other to get away from the sudden violence. A curse that had been deflected hit a roof and sent off a shower of rubble and roof tiles that clattered around them. Harry and his friends were outnumbered two to one, and they had had the element of surprise.

But they were holding their own, blocking or parrying most spells that came their way, while getting in a few shots of their own. Harry sent a trio of spells at one of the figures in rapid succession, hitting the unfortunate would-be assassin with the Sectusempra curse, making the fellow fall to the street spurting blood. Ron stunned another with a brilliant flurry of curses, while diving to the side to avoid a killing hex. Ginny was all fury as she danced between curses and delivering her own with cool precision. Hermione was amazing and elegant with her wand work, sending two of the attackers sprawling at once.

Harry disarmed one of the ones on the left, but saw that one of them had a clear shot at Ginny's back. Without thinking, he threw himself in the way, blocking the curse with ease and stunning the sender. But his momentary distraction had been enough for one of the attackers to get an opening. He was thrown off his feet, tasting blood as he smacked against the wall. He felt searing pain all over, but managed to get his feet under him, and managed to speak around the blood in his mouth to stun another assailant. When a misplaced blasting spell went off to his left, Harry was once again thrown to the ground, hitting his head hard. His vision swam, and he struggled to focus. Two of the hooded figures appeared over him. Without thinking, he pointed his wand at one of them and thought _Stupefy_. To his great surprise, the figure fell like a sack of potatoes, just as the one next to it was thrown back by a barrage of spells hitting it at once.

Suddenly, everything was quiet. He tried to move, to get up, but his limbs felt as if they were made of stone. He groaned as a current of pain ran up and down his body. Suddenly, Ginny, Ron and Hermione were at his side. He tried to speak, asking if they were OK, but the only effect his words had was a slight splatter of blood on Ginny's face as she leaned over him, frantically examining his body. There were tears in her eyes, he realized with a start. Why was she crying? Why was Hermione crying? _They think you're dying, stupid_ a voice murmured at the back of his head. His eyelids got heavy, and he struggled to keep from closing them, embracing the approaching darkness. The last thing he felt before he drifted off was Ginny's soft lips against his own.

Ginny

 _No, no, no, no, no, no, NO!_ She thought furiously as Harry was knocked over once again. He had blocked a curse meant for her, only to open himself to attack. She had lost her breath for a moment as he was flung against the wall, but had to turn her attention back to the woman trying to kill her. When she looked towards where he had fallen again, he was back on his feet, bleeding but fighting. She had turned her concentration back on the fight, dispatched the witch she was fighting, just as a loud BOOM sounded from behind. She turned to see a cloud of dust and rubble, and a few feet away, Harry was on his back, laying very still. Two of the attackers rushed over to stand over him, reading curses. With a furious shriek she unleashed every spell she could think of at the two figures.

To her great surprise, Harry's wand pointed straight to one of them, and the figure collapsed as he got hit square in the face with a stunning hex. The other fellow was not as lucky, as Ron and Hermione had taken out the remaining fighters, and turned their rage on the ones standing over Harry. As the combined spells hit the last attacker, he was swept along like a beach ball taken by a tsunami. She did a quick turn, making sure there were no more danger, and hurried over to her boyfriend.

"Harry!" She cried, dropping to her knees next to him, her eyes looking him up and down, seeing the many cuts and the blood that seemed to be everywhere."Why do you always have to be covered in blood?" She said without thinking. Ron and Hermione were there beside her, both looking shocked as they took in the extent of his injuries. She let her hands wander his body, trying to uncover his wounds. He tried to speak, but the only thing that left his lips was a splatter of blood that hit her across her face. His eyes were drooping, and she could see he was struggling to stay awake.

"He'll be fine, Ginny. Help is coming. It looks worse than it is." Hermione said, waving her wand and muttering spells. She could see some of his wounds closing before her eyes, and could hear people running towards them, shouting.

She leaned down and kissed Harry on his lips, ignoring the smearing of blood there. "Hang on Harry. Hang on." She said. Ron stood to meet the newcomers, that turned out to group of Aurors. He talking to them quickly, pointing to the bodies laying around the street. Before she knew what was happening, she was whisked away. When she looked around, feeling dazed, she realized they were at St. Mungos, and a group of healers were surrounding Harry, putting him on a stretcher as some worked spells. With heavy feet, she followed the healers as they took Harry away.

Gabrielle

Her Christmas vacation had been different from what she had expected. It was good to be away from school and to be able to do nothing but relax. Except, she couldn't. She kept thinking about Professor Potter. He featured in her dreams, she thought of him when awake, and when going to bed, it was him she fantasized about. It was driving her truly crazy. Even when her sister and her husband showed up, the company did little to take her mind of Harry Potter.

Even the news that Pure Dawn was spreading their influence, and had taken over a frightening number of ministries in a short time, could not drive her thoughts away from Harry Potter for long. Her father had been working long hours at the Ministry lately, trying to organize and ease people's fears. He had spoken at length over dinner with Bill and Fleur about how the Ministry was drafting employees from various departments to supplement the Auror force. This meant that there were more tasks on fewer hands in said departments, and a fair bit of overtime. The Ministry was also hiring, but applicants were put through substantial background tests to minimize the risk of Pure Dawn infiltration.

As Fluer mentioned Harry's fantastic gift to Ginny Weasley, she felt a fierce wave of envy wash over her. He had gotten that red-haired _bint_ a Firebolt, Italian leather gear and pads, _and_ a _gorgeous_ dress, according to Fleur. What did he see in her? She was nothing special! Granted, she wasn't ugly, and she supposed they did have a love of Quidditch in common. She kept fuming over the little British slut, imagining just what she would do to Harry if he had given _her_ such gifts. _Snap out of it you silly girl! You are calling your sister in law a slut, while contemplating doing THAT to him?! Hypocrite!_ She blushed in embarrassment.

"- I really do think they make such a cute couple. They certainly look cute when they kiss." Fleur said giggling.

"WHAT?" Gabrielle sputtered, standing up. Her parents, Bill and Fleur looked at her like she had just sprouted a tail and a nice set of horns. Now utterly embarrassed, she sat back down, studying her socks intently. So, they were more than just friends. More than just flirting. Perfect. _This is good_ a part of her mind chimed in. _He is no longer available, so no need to fret over him! Just move on._ As if it were that easy. She had tried, by all the gods, she had tried. But no matter how hard she tried to ignore her feelings for Harry James Potter, it was to no avail. He kept invading her dreams and waking hours alike.

The others had gotten silent for a while, her mother and sister eyeing her with curiosity, before the conversation resumed in full. She busied herself with a cup of honeyed tea and some sweet cakes Fleur had brought, trying her best to act normal. The conversation changed from Christmas, and to her great horror ended up on her and her studies. Her mother had let slip that she had trouble with Practical Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Fleur had been thoroughly shocked.

"Is Harry a bad teacher then? You have always been such a good student! I will have a talk with him, and-"

"No!" She interrupted her sister. "No, Professor Potter is a fantastic teacher. The fault is entirely mine. I have trouble concentrating is all. It's a busy year…"

"That doesn't sound like you, Gabbie. I will ask Harry to give you some private tutoring. We can't let your grades slip, can we?" Fleur said with a sweet smile. Gabrielle's blush only deepened.

"I will get private tutoring after the break. He already talked to me about it." She admitted.

"Good! I'm sure you will excel in no time." Fleur beamed at her. Just then, a green flash from the fireplace warned them that someone was connecting to them by floo powder. Her father stood up, smoothened his robes, and strode over to the fireplace. Moments after, one of her father's colleagues stepped through. The two men had a rapid conversation, and her father cast a frightful look at Bill, before resuming the conversation. The entire family was transfixed at the two men, but too polite to interrupt. After a couple of minutes, her father came striding over, his gait quick.

"Bill, there is news. There has been an attack in Diagon Alley. Your sister and brother were involved-"

"What?!" Bill shouted in his accented French as he practically jumped to his feet. "Are they OK?!"

"Yes. They have minor injuries only. It seems your sister was saved by Mr. Potter, before he was hit. They managed to dispose of the attackers, but Mr. Potter is currently at St. Mungos Hospital with severe injuries."

Gabrielle's heart stopped. She felt her face drain of all colour, and panic starting to set in.

"Will he die?" She asked, her voice cracking.

"The dispatch didn't say." Her father said, before addressing Bill again. "Your father sent word that you should be informed right away."

"I got to go. I'm sorry, but I need to return home." Bill said frantically as he started pacing. "You're sure Ginny is OK? And Ron?"

"Yes. Minor injuries only. I am told they fought off twice their number. Impressive really-"

"I'm sorry Fleur. Mr and Mrs Delacour. I have to return and make sure."

"Of course, darling, I will come with you." Fleur said, standing as well.

"That's ok. Stay with your family. I will send word as soon as I can, and come back before you even miss me." He said, giving her a kiss. "Is there any way to arrange for transport to London?" He asked desperately.

"Yes. It has been taken care of. A portkey is waiting for you. I'll take you." The three men quickly said their goodbyes and made their exit, leaving Gabrielle alone with her mother and sister.

She couldn't breathe, her mind swirling. _He might be dying! Maybe already dead!_ She felt tears stinging in her eyes, and all at once her lungs started working as she inhaled and exhaled in deep, wrecking sobs. Tears flew from her eyes, and she found herself helpless to stop them. She cried uncontrollably, her sister and mother rushing to her side in concern, asking her what was wrong, but she had no energy to talk. All she could do was sob as she thought about the man she loved, laying at death's door with her unable to do anything about it.


	6. Chapter Six: Shaken, not Stirred

**Chapter Six: Shaken, but not Stirred**

 **Gabrielle**

Days went by with no further word on how Harry was doing. The story of his attack had been amongst the headlines in most papers and magazines. For the most part, there was a lot of speculation, a fair amount of rumor, and only the occasional tidbit of genuine information. It appeared that he was no longer in mortal danger, but according to reliable sources, he had yet to wake. Gabrielle felt a twisted knot in her stomach as she worried about the man she loved, and had no idea how to make herself feel better. The only good news came from Bill, who could confirm that Harry was unconscious, but in no immediate danger.

Her sister and mother had been keeping a close eye on her since she had broken down in front of them after hearing Harry had been attacked. They kept giving her worried looks when they thought she wouldn't notice, and had low hushed conversations that stopped as soon as she approached. It was really starting to get on her nerves. She had told them everything, after all, and now she felt like they thought she was crazy. She had told them that she got flustered and unfocused whenever he was around. That she kept thinking about him throughout the day, and that she dreamed about him during the nights. She had been completely honest, telling them she even fantasized about him, and felt herself get hot and bothered just by the mere thought of the British wizard. Fleur had been understanding, and a source of great comfort, as had her mother, but now they were both hiding something from her.

She sat by her desk in her room, trying to get through the last of her assigned homework for the break. She had finished the Potions and Transfigurations essays days ago, and all that remained were a reading assignment in Practical Defense Against the Dark Arts, and her punishment essay in the same subject. She had read the required chapters twice, but still had trouble retaining the information, as her thoughts kept slipping. Growling in frustration, she threw the book down on her bed and got up to take a walk around the gardens. There was a light dusting of snow, but she felt like the cool, fresh air might do her some good.

She had barely reached the front door when her mother's voice rang out from the parlor, calling her name. She rehung her winter coat on the rack, and went into the parlor with trepidation. Fleur and her mother were sitting in two of the four deep, soft cushioned armchairs arranged in front of the parlor fireplace. There was a tray with pastries and tea on the small round table, and Fleur was already pouring her a cup.

"Please, Gabrielle. Sit down." Her mother said, gesturing to one of the chairs.

"I was going to take a walk in the gardens. Clear my head a bit." She said, feeling a bit restless.

"It won't take too long, my darling. There is somethings you need to know."

"Can't it wait?" Gabrielle said, biting her lower lip nervously. The last time her mother had acted this way, she had been sat down and gotten the sex talk, something that was utterly embarrassing in every way. Yeah, she was part Veela, and had the power to influence men, but she had never felt any need to influence anyone, and had felt very little desire at all before she met Harry Potter. She reluctantly took her seat, and accepted the cup of tea that Fleur offered her.

"So. What's this about?" She asked, taking a sip. Fleur had used honey to sweeten her tea, and a squeeze of lemon to give it that little extra twinge of taste. Fleur really knew how she liked her tea.

"So. This Harry Potter. Have you used your Veela charms on him?" Asked her mother.

"What?!" Gabrielle sputtered. "No! Of course not! He is a teacher!"

"That did not always stop your sister." Her mom said with a deadpan expression as she glanced at Fleur. "But you are sure?"

"Yes! I have never used my charms on anyone willingly!"

"Well, you should try using it on him." Fleur said, smiling a little.

"What? No. No way. Why would I?"

"Because he might be your bondmate, my dear." Said her mother, smiling apologetically.

"My what?!" Gabrielle felt trapped and desperately wanted to run away, but she kept her calm and stayed seated.

"Bondmate. It is very common among the Veela. Magic always seeks balance, and so it is with the Veela. Our charms can bend men to our will, more or less depending on the man. But there are those whom a Veela has no effect on. We call these bondmates. When a Veela finds a partner who is immune to their charms, they know they have found theirs." Her mother took a deep breath before continuing. "It's magic's way of balancing our powers. We can ensnare with them, but they can also ensnare us."

"What do you mean, 'Ensnare?'" Gabrielle asked, panic rising in her chest.

"Just that. Normally, a Veela's powers work on others. With a bondmate, a Veela's power work on herself."

"So, my powers are making me long for him?" She asked completely crestfallen.

"Yes, in a way."

"Why have no one ever told me this before?! You spent so much time on telling me how to use and control my abilities, and preparing me for when they would awaken! Why have I never heard of this?!" Gabrielle felt her anger rise as she glared at her mother and sister in turn.

"Because it is extremely rare, even amongst full blood Veela and half blood Veela. It is almost unheard of in quarter bloods. It is one of the best kept secrets the Veela have." Her mother said pleadingly.

"So I don't even love him? It's just my powers turning against me, making me look like a freaking fool?!" She snarled.

"No, no. The bond doesn't mimic love. It amplifies it. Think of it like listening to the radio. When you are in love with someone, it's like the volume is on half way. With the bond, it is like the volume is turned all the way up, and then some. If you did not truly love him, he could never be your bondmate." Her mother said patiently.

"It still does not explain why this was kept from me!"

"It was not done in spite or to be mean, my sweet sister. It is called a secret for a reason." Fleur said, empathy and guilt evident in her tone and face.

"And you!" Gabrielle turned her ire on her sister, making Fleur flinch. "How do you know this oh-so-great secret?!"

"Because it has happened to me. Please Gabby, calm down. It is how I found Bill." Fleur said, blushing.

"What?! I Thought you fell in love with him working for Gringotts!" Gabrielle felt like she was burning inside.

"I did! I did! I was trying to use my powers on him, flirting a bit to get his attention, but nothing happened. Then I just became obsessed with him. Thought of him constantly, needed to be near him… It was so distracting."

"And what? I need to be with Harry now? He is taken! He is together with your husband's sister!" She shouted.

"No! You don't have to. It _can_ be broken, but it is…difficult." Fleur said, looking away guiltily.

"How?! How do I break it?!"

"Well...there are two ways I know of…none of them is very pleasant. Well, one is if you wish for it in the first place, but the other…"

"So what? I have to sacrifice a virgin and bathe in her blood?" She asked sarcastically.

"No. One way is to kill your bondmate and eat his heart-"

"No. No way! I will never kill him! Or anyone for that matter! Never!" She said, standing up, hand itching for her wand.

"Calm down, Gabby!" Fleur said, rising her arms in a gesture of peace. "Calm down! That's just one of the ways."

"And what is the other? Impaling myself on a wooden stake?" She asked, fuming. Fleur couldn't help herself, and snorted a laugh. Gabrielle noted that even her mother was smiling a little, but tried to hide it.

"In a matter of speaking." Fleur laughed. "I'm sorry. It's no laughing matter, but in a sense, yes. One way to break the bond is to have him father a child on you, and stay well away from him until the child is born."

"What?!" Gabrielle said, losing all her steam and sagging on her chair.

"The bond is both a balance and a way of finding a strong mate." Her mother said.

"So, I either fuck him, kill him, or live with this nightmarish obsession?" She asked in a weak voice.

"Afraid so, sweetheart. I'm sorry." Her mother said as she rose from her chair and hugged Gabrielle tightly.

"It gets better if you get to connect to him emotionally, Gabby. If you get to be around him, be intimate… It will get better. Even being close to him will get easier once the bond is established, so to speak, but to do that, you need to try your powers on him." Fleur said, also hugging her. Gabrielle felt like crying.

"How can I do that? He is in love! How can I ruin that?" She asked with a shaky voice. She hated being this emotional and irrational.

"Gabby, please. You are an attractive girl! That's with your Veela blood not standing. With it, you are a temptation to any man. If you want him, fight for him!" Fleur said.

"But if he is my bondmate, my powers won't work on him!"

"Gabbie… A Veela, and a girl for that matter, has more than magic powers at her disposal to make a guy fall for her. Use your… assets.". Gabrielle gave Fleur a look that could melt steel beams.

"My _assets?!_ " she hissed.

"Yes, my darling, sweet, innocent sister. Your assets. You do have quite a nice set of them you know." Fleur said with a giggle, as Gabrielle made to slap her. "And a shapely ass as well. I dare say you need no power to make any boy fall for you."

"There has to be another way! Mama, please tell me there is another way?" Gabrielle pleaded, sending her sister a nasty look.

"I don't know, sweetheart. I will do some research, and seek out the few people who might know, but I will have to hunt them down first. It may take some time." Her mother said, giving her a hug.

"I still say you go for him, Gabby. It is far more fun than waiting around, I assure you…" Fleur purred.

 **Ginny**

Ginny had barely slept in four days. Since the attack, she had spent every waking moment at Harry's side, hoping for any sign of improvement. The healers told her that he would most likely fully recover, and that he was out of danger for the time being. The damage had been extreme, and it had been a small miracle he had survived as long as he did without help. His wounds were mostly gone now, but he spouted a few new scars to add to the collection on his torso, and a small thin pale line breaking his left eyebrow. The healers at St. Mungo's were brilliant, but not even they could heal all wounds.

She was sitting with Hermione at his bedside, trying to read a tactics manual on Quidditch, while Hermione was busying herself with studying. She had thrown herself into her schoolwork with a passion and fervor that bordered on fanatical, determined to ace all her classes at Hogwarts, even with missing half the year. After reading the same diagram at least a dozen times, she gave up and laid the manual down on the nightstand. She rubbed her eyes, feeling for the hundredth time how tired she was.

"I'm gonna get a little shut-eye. Wake me if something happens." She yawned, leaning back on her chair and resting her legs on Harry's bed. Hermione gave a grunt that sounded like acknowledgement and Ginny closed her eyes. She had no idea how long she had been sleeping when Hermione shook her awake, but the sun had set and it was dark outside. She rubbed her eyes and stretched, feeling the satisfaction of her back popping.

"What?" She asked sleepily. She looked around, and noted that Harry's bed was empty. Her heart sunk and she jumped to her feet. "Where is Harry?! Hermione, where the fuck is he?!" She said, looking her friend in the eyes. "What happened?!"

"I don't know! I must have fallen asleep, and when I woke up he was gone!" Hermione said, close to panic. "I am so sorry Ginny!"

"Fuck! We need to find him! What if someone took him?! Quick, go find the healers and-" She turned around desperately looking for some clues as to Harry's whereabouts, feeling her heartbeat in her ears as her breathing became more rapid.

"Mornin' ladies." A hoarse voice said from the door to the toilet. There, supporting himself with a cane, stood Harry in an unflattering hospital gown, shaking a little and limping as he made his way to bed.

"You! You were gone!" Ginny said, her breath escaping like steam from a steam whistle. Just as quickly, her next thought hit her. She rushed to his side, giving him some support as he limped his way across the room. "You're awake!" she said, dumbfounded.

"Yeah. I had to piss something fierce." He said, smiling at her. "And you two were sleeping so soundly, but I still felt like I maybe shouldn't just whip it out and take a leak in front of you, so; the toilet it was."

"Don't be nasty." Ginny chided, giving him a small smack to the back of the head.

"Ow!" Harry chuckled as he sat down on his bed, but his chuckling soon turned to coughing.

"Harry! You ok?" she asked.

"Yeah. Just thirsty."

She quickly poured him a glass of water, handing it to him as she sat down next to him, giving his cheek a kiss and leaned a little on him.

"I'm so happy you're awake. You had me really worried."

"So. I take it we won?" Harry asked, looking at her and Hermione in turn. "No one got hurt?"

"We did. And no. Just a few scrapes and bruises. Seeing as how you decided the best way to block a curse was with your own body, you got the worst of it." Hermione said, giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "That was stupid by the way. Brave, but stupid."

Harry chuckled. "Yeah, I should have that engraved on my family crest. 'Potter – Brave but Stupid'"

"I owe you my life." Ginny said as she kissed him full on the lips. They were wet from his drink, but chopped and slightly swollen in places. "Again."

 **Harry**

Harry ached all over. He was not complaining thou, but it was rather inconvenient. He had awoken the day before New Years Eve, but had been mostly confined to bed since. That was three days ago, and Harry could really do with getting out of bed for longer than it took to relieve himself. He had not had much time alone, as his friends and Ginny were frequent visitors. Even Shacklebolt had stopped by for a visit the day before. The Weasleys in general dropped by now and then to check up on him. He really liked the time he got to spend alone with Ginny, just talking and joking, stealing kisses and at times copping a feel. What time he did spend alone and awake, he spent reading. Hermione had been good about bringing him some books to pass the time with. He had decided to master silent casting, as he had managed to do it in pure desperation while wounded, but the few attempts he had made from his bed had been a complete failure. He had read a fair bit on the subject, and did his best to condition his mind, but the key to success still eluded him.

While he had been confined to his sickbed, more bad news had trickled in from the continent. The day before, the Polish ministry had been engulfed in Fiendfyre. The uncontrolled fire had spread rapidly, destroying most of the ministry building itself, and killing several ministry officials. Among those killed was the Polish Minister of Magic and his entire personal staff, as well as the head of Magical Law Enforcement and several Aurors. Pure Dawn had been quick to claim power, establishing a new government and cracking down hard on any protests. Their hold was far from complete thou, with surviving ministry officials and loyalists refusing the new regime, and establishing their own government in direct opposition. No shots had been fired, so to speak, as of yet, but it would just take a spark to ignite the whole powder keg and send the country into a civil war.

It drove him mad with worry that he could see no way that the situation could not escalate to a full-blown wizard war. There were more reports of Pure Dawn holding rallies and demonstrations in Spain, France, Germany, the Netherlands, Belgium, and even in Scandinavia. There were also some positive news. Pure Dawn was far from unopposed in their conquered countries. There were revolts in Bulgaria and the Balkans, with a few members of Pure Dawn disappearing. It seemed the hold of the new regime was not as secure as first believed.

He laid down the latest issue of The Daily Prophet on his nightstand. He felt like he had to do something, but just what the hell was he supposed to do? He couldn't just wander into foreign ministries, fire off a few hexes, and wander out again. During his reading on history, he had learned that when one regime was overthrown without any structure to replace it, it often lead to something far worse taking its place. While Harry was ready to fight any and all who wanted to establish a Mini-Voldemort-regime, he had no intention of declaring himself supreme dictator of Europe. He finally felt like he could run a classroom, but had no intention of running anything more complex than that, ever.

The next day, the healers informed him that he was recovering nicely, and could return home in the next couple of days. The news was met with excitement from his friends, who were eager to have him out of the hospital. Ron and Hermione had offered to stay with him a few days after he was released, just in case something were to happen. He had accepted, happy to have their company for a while before returning to France. The biggest surprise of the day, both literally and figuratively, was when Madame Maxime burst into his room, looking extremely tired. But despite her evident troubles, she had a broad smile plastered on her face as she strode over to him.

"Ah! 'Arry! Eet eez so good to zee you! I 'ave been sick wiz worry since ze news of your attack came to me! 'Ow are you feeling?" She said, slapping a massive palm on his shoulder, squeezing it lightly.

"I'm very well, thank you, Madame. And yourself?" He smiled.

"Well enough. Well enough. More arguing wiz ze Ministry, concerned parents wanting to know zeir children are safe at school. Same old, really. Just a bit more of eet."

"Ah. I hope you didn't come all this way for just me then, Madame."

"I 'ad to zee 'ow my newest professeur were doing, non?" She said with a wink. "Eet waz very impressive. Outnumbered and surprised eento ze bargain, yet you emerged ze victorious ones."

"Impressive? I ended up in the hospital." Harry chuckled. "Hardly one for the history books now, is it?"

"Au Contraire, 'Arry! Ze fact zat you managed to not only survive, but dispoze of ze attackers, 'ave silenced ze protests of your appointment to my staff. Quite a few parents 'ave expressed zeir pleasure at 'aving you teach zeir children to defend zemselves, zeeing as you 'ave a talent for eet." Madame Maxime smiled broadly at him. "Zat is one less problem for me to deal wiz."

"Well, glad my brush with death was good for something at least." Harry mumbled, causing Madame Maxime to bark a short laugh.

"Indeed. An effective, if somewhat dramatique, demonstration of your skillz. Do try to stay out of ze 'ospital next time, oui?"

They spent the rest of her visit chatting and going over Harry's lesson plan for the coming term. He went over in great detail what he had planned, getting her invaluable input as they went along. He was going to start teaching them the Patronus charm, in case they ever had the misfortune of ever running into a dementor or two. Madame Maxime approved of that greatly, and said she would look into loaning a dementor for the student's final exams. Their only argument came after Harry broached the very delicate subject of the unforgivable curses. He had been thinking long about how to best prepare his students for the rising problems and tensions on the continent, and had decided that they should be ready for anything.

"Non. Absolutely non!" Madame Maxime said calmly, as anger built up in her. "I 'ave enough troubles wiz the Ministry and ze parents. Ze last zing I need eez for my staff to torture students!"

"Madame, I'm sorry. I must have misspoken. When I said demonstrate the unforgivable curses, I did not mean _on_ the students." Harry said, holding up his arms in a gesture of peace. "Only to show them the effect the curses have, so they might recognize them." Madame Maxime visibly calmed down a bit.

"I am sorry, 'Arry. I should 'ave know you would nevar. I 'ave not 'ad a good night sleep in weeks, eet feels like."

"I know the feeling. But it might be something to take up with the board. And it might be beneficial. The Imperius Curse can be resisted, if not broken, by a strong enough mind. It could be a good idea to at least let the older students experience it, and try to learn to resist it. Trouble is brewing, Madame. And I would hate for our students to be naked before the storm, should it come."

Madame Maxime sighed heavily at his words, closing her eyes and rubbing her temples with her massive hand.

"I understand your reasoning, 'Arry. I truly do. But eet iz no simple matter. Eet will require permission from ze Ministry, and ze School Board. But you are right. Our students need to be ready." They sat in silence for a long, few moments, before she released a breath he hadn't noticed she was holding. "I will speak wiz them. At least for ze sixth and seventh years."

After a while she gave a small smile. "At ze very last, zis may cost you the title of most popular Professeur."

Two days later, he was finally released from the hospital. Flanked by Ron and Hermione, he apparated in the back yard of Grimaulds Place 12. He only had a few more days to spend with his friends before he had to return to France and his classes. Hermione and Ginny were also set to leave for Hogwarts in a couple of days, leaving Ron in a sour mood, as he would be 'abandoned', as he so lovingly put it. Hermione had chided him, saying he would be busy with work anyway, and they could always meet up during Hogsmeade weekends. Harry also informed him that he was more than welcome to take a weekend and visit him in southern France, should the cold and ice prove too gloomy.

That afternoon, Shacklebolt showed up for tea. It seemed a common theme with his friends in high places that they looked completely haggard and exhausted lately. With the entire weight of Wizarding Britain on his shoulders, Harry felt nothing but sympathy for the man. Shacklebolt slumped down in his chair, rubbing his bald scalp and sighing with relief as he accepted a steaming cup.

"My thanks, Harry." He said in his deep, booming voice, blowing softly on the brew.

"So. Busy days I take it?" Harry said smiling with empathy.

"Yeah. You could say that. Meetings with the various department heads, trying to undo the damage done by those damned Death Eaters, trying to get new laws and regulations into action, rebuilding relations. On top of that we have those damned Pure Dawn fanatics running around, attacking famous heroes-" He said with a tired wink. "Yeah. Its been busy."

"Yeah. I read that Pure Dawn has been banned from organizing. Think it will help?"

"Truthfully?" Shacklebolt sighed again, taking a sip before continuing. "I doubt it. The Death Eaters were banned, and that did nothing. But it does send a strong message, and allows us to arrest those who are fervent."

Harry cringed a bit. "Planning arrests of political enemies already?"

"Ha! No. It would make things easier at times, but that is not what we fought for. What our friends died for." Shacklebolt said, and a few moments of silence followed as they thought about the people they had lost. "No. Everyone will get fair trials, I promise. But I will not allow the road to be paved for another dark wizard to rise on my watch."

"Glad to hear it. Anything I can do to help? I'm sure Madame Maxime would understand it if I had to return to active duty." Harry said, feeling his stomach sink as he made the offer.

"I won't lie. It might help a bit, but no. It seems teaching suits you. You are more relaxed than you were those months ago when you burst into my office." He said with a small chuckle at the memory. "Keep your wits keen, and your wand ready. Trouble is afoot, I'm afraid, but I see no reason you can't continue your role in France. Though it would help if you made a public statement with me. Show a united front."

Harry felt a small pang of dread. He had had an intense dislike of journalists ever since his first meeting with the revolting little woman, Rita Skeeter. But he did owe Shacklebolt, if for nothing more than, for being the most understanding employer he could ever hope to have. And if his standing in front of a few cameras, make a little speech and look confident could help ease the public, if only a little, he would do it.

"Fair enough." Harry said, giving a weak smile.

The rest of Shacklebolt's visit was a pleasant affair for them both. It seemed like he had really needed to sit down and just chat for a while with someone who didn't make any demands of him. He told Harry in confidence that there were talks between the British, French and German Ministries to establish a common front against the rising threat, and the international meetings alone was far more than he had ever dreamed, in the darkest and deepest of nightmares, that he would be overseeing.

The following day, Harry showed up in the Ministry, dressed in a fine suit Hermione had dug up from somewhere, and stood shoulder to shoulder with Shacklebolt as they faced the flashing firing-squad of trigger happy journalists. They delivered their speeches, doing their best to reassure Britain and the world that the Ministry of Magic stood firm and strong against any and all that would threaten the health and rights of their citizens. After a rather uncomfortable round of questions and answers, they were ushered away to the Minister's office for a round of brandy and tea. The grateful look on Shacklebolt's face let Harry know that his hour of discomfort was well and truly worth it.

There had been a few pointed questions, mostly from his favorite journalist, regarding Harry spending so much time in France. Shacklebolt had handled it splendidly, explaining that Harry was _not_ spending his time vacationing of some French beach or château. It had been explained that in an effort to build good relations with _our French brothers and sisters_ , Harry was teaching at the prestigious Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, sharing his experience and expertise to prepare the youth of France for the troubled times ahead. While that was at best half-truths, Harry was impressed with the silver tongue of the Minister. With his way of words and his deep, rumbling voice, Harry was sure that Shacklebolt could talk a gnome into giving away free gold.


	7. Chapter Seven: Return to Term

**Chapter Seven: Return to Term**

 **Harry**

Harry spent the last days of his Christmas vacation with his friends and the Weasleys. He tried to spend as much time with Ginny as he possibly could, seeing as how they would be spending close to half a year apart. Again. But despite Harry's intense wish that time would slow down to a crawl, quite the opposite happened, and time flew by like it had somewhere more important to be. Almost before he even realized it, it was Sunday and time for departures.

He and Ron stood on platform nine and three-quarters hugging and snogging their respective girlfriends while saying goodbye, and in Harry's case, trying desperately not to cry a little as his newfound bliss was rapidly approaching its end for now. As smoke and steam billowed around them, he held Ginny tight to himself, kissing the top of her head as he inhaled her scent one more time. The platform was a tangled confusion of students and parents, and pets and pests, and it made Harry's heart ache all the more, wanting nothing more than to have his trunk packed and ready, Hedwig's cage, and his ticket in hand, ready to board the train for another year at the one place he had truly felt at home. The whistle blew, signaling the train was about ready to leave, making him squeeze her to him all the tighter for a brief moment.

"Be good, yeah? And send owls regularly." He mumbled into her red hair.

"I will. You too, okay?" she said, breaking away for a moment and kissing him hard on the lips before turning to board the train with a final wave and goodbye. Her kiss left a tingling sensation on his lips that left him wanting far more, but they had said their goodbyes in a more intimate way the night before.

As the train slowly started building speed, students hanging out the windows waving to parents who were just as fervently waving back, Ron and Harry stood in mutual silence as the girls in their lives were carried away to the magical fortress in the Scottish highlands. They stood there for a good while, watching the train grow smaller and smaller, until it disappeared. The last tendrils of smoke were long gone, and the platform was pretty much deserted as parents, siblings and loved ones had left.

"So, what now?" Ron said, his voice a tiny bit cracked.

"Donno. I still have a few hours before I leave for France."

"The pub?" Ron asked with a grin.

"Sure. Can't hurt." Harry smiled back

The Leaky Cauldron had changed nothing in the years since Harry had first set his foot in the establishment. For that matter, it didn't look like it had changed much since Jack the Ripper was running around London at night. There were a dozen or so patrons in the room, leaving a lot of space open. They occupied a table in the far corner, and Ron set off to get them their drinks. Harry watched him as he headed to the bar, placed their order, and fell into conversation with a short man sitting on a barstool. Harry set his briefcase down on the floor beside his chair after pulling out the latest issue of the Daily Prophet. If Ron was going to be chatting away for a while, he would have a look at the news. For once, there was no news of ministries being taken over, or attacks.

He was deep in thought over an article on a proposal to relax the international ban on dueling, when Ron sat down opposite him after putting down two glasses of something amber and strong looking, with a hint of smoke rising from them. They made a toast to no one in particular, and took a deep gulp, feeling the burn as the liquid made its way down their throats. Harry, used to both Firewhiskey and the special cognacs the French were so in love with, was taken completely aback. It was cold, but yet had the burn of a hellfire to it. Then it got colder. So much colder, while still burning.

"Bloody Hell!" Ron sputtered.

"Yeah, what the hell is this shit?" Harry said, gasping for air.

"Ice Aquavit. Some spirits imported from Norway. The Scandinavians are crazy about the stuff."

"Who in their right mind would willingly drink this?!" Harry asked, groaning as the aftertaste hit him with full force. Ron looked as if he was about to answer, when they were interrupted.

"It's you." A cracked voice said. Harry looked up to see a middle aged witch with messy hair and bloodshot eyes, glaring at him with narrowed eyes.

"Can I help you?" Harry asked.

"' _Can I help you?_ '" she said in a mocking approximation of his voice. "Yes. Yes you can. You murdered my brother, you fucking half-blooded mongrel!" She spat at him. "You can fucking die!" she yelled as she pulled her wand. Harry and Ron reacted instantly, both drawing their wands, aiming and firing off a couple of stunning hexes that hit her square in the face before she could bring her wand into play. She crumbled to the floor and remained unconscious as the patrons in the pub all jumped to their feet and yelled in shock at the sudden, albeit short, display of violence.

"I take it that's it for drinking then." Ron said with a sigh. He had bolted out of his chair and stood giving the room a sweeping glance, but when it was clear no one else was going to pull a wand on them, he looked down on the woman and took a hold of her. "Gotta turn her in I suppose. Coming?"

"Yeah, right behind you." Harry said, putting away his wand as Ron disapparated with a _crack_. He let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. He took one last look around the room, noting the people staring at him, before reaching for his glass and draining the foul liquid in one huge gulp. He shuddered at the icy burn and nasty taste, before apparating to the Ministry.

 **Gabrielle**

The last week of her vacation was a confusing mess. The revelation that her Veela blood was screwing her over was an unwelcome one, but she finally knew she was not going crazy. Well, not really at least. Her mom and sister had been alternating between teasing and helping, promising to look into ways of breaking the forming bond between her and Harry without having to resort to drastic measures. But even now, she felt herself longing for her brilliant, brave and handsome professor. And she had no idea how to feel about that. She both loved and hated her reactions to him, and she had no idea what she wanted to do. On one hand, she knew she should just let him be happy with that Ginny bint, but on the other, she really wanted Harry for herself.

There had been an article about him in the paper that morning. He had looked so handsome and dashing in a fitted suit, with his athletic frame, emerald eyes and that wild hair that could just not be tamed, much like the man himself. She had been so happy to see that he was on his feet again, looking no worse for the wear. She found herself fantasizing about him in his suit, taking her on a romantic date, stealing kisses, holding her tight. She shook herself out of her daydreams, focusing with iron will on the last piece of homework she had to finish, but her thoughts drifted back to him.

He had held a short speech, along with the British Minister of Magic, promising that the Brits would stand firm and strong against any who would threaten their people. It made her heart flutter at the thought of Harry standing defiantly in front of Pure Dawn fanatics, wand in hand and bravely barring their path, like a hero of legend. _Stop that you silly slut!_ an angry voice in the back of her head screamed at her. That voice had become familiar to her by now, and it usually had some good thoughts. Mostly. She still wished it would stop calling her names.

With a growl of frustration, she threw down her book and looked at her clock. She had promised to meet Sophie and Ella for a little bit of shopping and lunch before the vacation ended, and Fleur had a few boutiques she wanted to visit before heading back to England. There was still two hours until they were set to leave, and she decided to take a bath and relax for a bit, maybe letting her frustrations soak away.

If she had thought that the bath would calm her vivid imagination, she had been ruefully wrong on that score. As she laid naked in the tub, surrounded by hot water and scented oils, she couldn't help imagining Harry's hands roaming her body instead of her own. How would his hands feel on her skin, caressing the curves of her body, cupping her breasts? How would his lips feel against hers as they shared a passionate kiss? How would his naked body feel pressed against hers? Her breath became more rapid as she explored herself, thinking of Harry and how much better it would feel to have him there with her.

With a few minutes to spare, she stood fully clothed in the hallway with a slight blush on her face, thinking of what she had done in the bath and longing for more. As Fleur came to join her, walking out to the courtyard, she made up her mind. _Fuck Ginny. Fuck her broom-riding skinny ass. Fuck her relationship with Harry. He is MINE._ She would take Fleur's suggestion to heart, and she would get Harry no matter what. Her competition being family of sorts, or no. She would get him.

 **Harry**

When Harry arrived at the Ministry, Ron had already handed off his prisoner to a pair of burly looking Aurors, and was standing waiting for him.

"You sure have a knack for getting into fights, mate." Ron said with a small smile.

"Yeah. Any idea why she attacked though?"

"No idea. They will find out." He said with a jab of his thumb over his shoulders to the two Aurors who were hauling the woman away. "She did call you a murderer. Something about you killing her brother?"

"Yeah, but I didn't, did I?" Harry asked consciously. "I mean, aside from Voldemort, and I have never heard about him having any family."

"Yeah, you're right. Might be one of the guys we took out, but they all lived last I heard anything." Ron said with a sigh. "You do have a tendency for getting into fights on a frequent base you know."

"Yeah, tell me about it. At least I wont be able to get into any fights at Beauxbatons."

Harry and Ron went to the Aurors office together to give their statements, and once the un-pleasantries were done with they had nothing better to do than sit around Ron's desk and chat the hours away until Harry had to leave. He stepped into the alcove dedicated for portkeys to Paris, nodded to the witch on duty with a smile, grabbed a hold of an old tea kettle, and off he went.

When he arrived he was surprised to be greeted by not only Monsieur Delacour, but three other officials. They greeted him warmly, shaking hands and exchanging names and titles, before inviting him to an informal lunch. Harry was immediately suspicious, but being hungry and a bit curious, he agreed. They took him to the cozy cafe he and Celine had had lunch at before the break. Harry had a strong suspicion what the mysterious last-minute meeting was really about, and he severely doubted that it had anything to do with food. The conversation was polite and pleasant, with Monsieur Delacour introducing his colleagues and chatting idly as they waited for their food. As soon as it arrived however, they got to business.

"So, Monsieur Potter. 'ow do you find our great academy? Beauxbatons ees a fantastique school, non?" a short man with a beak of a nose said. Harry thought his name was Charles Goudeau, but to be quite honest, he had paid little attention to their names and titles.

"It is, Monsieur. It is truly a beautiful school, and a splendid one at that."

"I wholeheartedly agree. Eet ees just such a shame zat ze Ministry cannot make sure our students get the best education possible…"

Harry sighed. No subtlety with these guys.

"Gentlemen. Allow me to tell you a little story from my own student days at Hogwarts." Harry laid down his cutlery and lock gaze with each official in turn. "My fifth year, after Voldemort had returned, the British Ministry took a hard line refusing to admit there was any danger. They decided to take a more direct interest in the running of the school, appointing one of the most horrendous women I have ever had the displeasure of meeting to teach us how to defend ourselves." Harry took a breath to continue, and Monsieur Goudeau took the opportunity to interrupt.

"I am aware, Monsieur Potter, but surely ze two cases 'ere are not ze same." Harry just gave him a silent stare before continuing.

"The point is, the Ministry, driven by fear, decided to implement policies that shackled our ability to defend ourselves. They instituted an environment that dissuaded learning that they deemed too dangerous. They crippled our ability to defend ourselves at a time where we needed it the most. Now, I know that none of us are blind to the new threat that is rising. I know that you are doing all you can to root out the problem-"

"But surely, eef you know how hard we are fighting, you would agree zat we need to extend our control to ensure zere are proper educational plans in place!" Monsieur Goudeau interrupted yet again. Harry was really starting to dislike the little weasel-looking man with the enormous beak.

"No. I do not agree. I agree that the students need to be prepared and able to face whatever may come their way, but I do not agree that the ministry should decide what they should be taught or not. Make suggestions? Yes. Control it? No. After all, should the Ministry fall, which I hope it does not, we would all be much worse off should a new regime have easy access to the teaching institutions. Something I am also aware of the dangers with."

"But-"

"Monsieur Goudeau. Even if I were to agree, what help would I be to you? I am a temporary teacher, hired to stay on until the end of the year. Nothing more."

"You have influence! Even 'ere in France, people see you as a hero. You could nudge Madame Maxime in ze right direction-". Harry held up a hand to stop him. He felt a smoldering anger within himself, but he managed to keep it under control.

"Let me make something very clear. I have complete faith in Madame Maxime. She has such passion and dedication to her students, her staff and her school, that I am absolutely convinced that she is the right person to lead the school, unhindered by politics. Now. If you have any suggestions, take them to her. If they are good and beneficial, I am sure she will listen. But I would not allow my own Ministry to make a puppet out of me, and I sure as hell will not allow another to do so. Any good ideas, and I will listen. If we should come under attack, I will be there beside you to defend and protect, but I will not sell out my students or my Headmistress." Harry rose to his feet, grabbing his briefcase.

"Now, I don't mean to be rude, but I have somewhere to be. Thank you for lunch, gentlemen." He said, bowing slightly as he remembered his hasty etiquette course before leaving for France the first time. He offered a shocked Monsieur Delacour his hand, and shook it. "Monsieur Delacour. It was a pleasure to see you, as always." And with that he left the cafe and headed down the street to a row of fireplaces. Before he reached them, he could hear someone running up on him from behind. He spun on the spot, drawing his wand and pointed it straight at hi pursuer.

"I yield." Monsieur Delacour said with a smile, as he help up his hands in surrender. Harry quickly put his wand away.

"I'm sorry. Reflexes." He said.

"Zat ees understandable, I zink. I just wanted to apologize. Zey were out of line, and rude."

"Don't worry." Harry smiled. He liked the man well enough. Always polite and friendly. "I have gotten plenty of experience with the type over the years."

"Indeed. But still. Eet was uncalled for." He sighed. "I should probably warn you. You 'ave made no friends of zem. Zey may find ways to make zings difficult for you."

"Imagine that. Me having a difficult time. I do so wonder what that would be like." Harry said with a grim smile. "Thank you though."

"No problem. And, Monsieur Potter. Eet ees good to see you are doing so well. We were all worried about you after ze attacks." He said, gracing Harry with a smile of his own.

With a nod, Harry turned and continued to the fireplaces, slipping few knuts into a slot and activating the floo powder. As he stepped into the green flames, declared his destination, and was whisked away, swirling though the network of connected fireplaces, he had a sinking feeling that Monsieur Delacour's warning would come true. But that was trouble for another day. There was still a few hours before the welcome feast was to begin, and he wanted to talk with Madame Maxime.

The school was mostly quiet, with only a few members of staff hanging around, awaiting the flying horse drawn carriages that would bring the students in a few hours. Having just taken the ride himself, he found it a truly magnificent way to enter school grounds. The ride was surprisingly smooth and comfortable, something he hadn't expected at all. He found the Headmistress' office easily this time around, and to his amusement he found that the vast chateau was no longer the insurmountable labyrinth it had been when he first arrived at the school. He had really gotten to know the place a lot in his short time, but there were still many things that puzzled him.

He knocked on the door and was given leave to enter. The pristine office was much as he remembered. Orderly and neat, but he noted that her desk had quite a bit more clutter than he had expected. Madame Maxime sat behind her desk, reading something that looked to be a letter, and looking slightly annoyed. With a massive, ham sized hand, she waved him towards the sitting group.

"I will be wiz you in a moment." She said distracted by her reading. Harry took a seat in one of the proffered seats and waited. It had only been a few minutes when Madame Maxime threw down the letter and abandoned her throne-like chair to join Harry.

"Waz can I do for you, Monsieur Potter." She said, sitting down in a comfortable-looking chair sized for her massive dimensions.

"Bad news?" Harry asked, indicating the desk.

"Oui, of a sorts. Ze Ministry ees threatening to cut funding eef we do not allow zem more control over ze school." She said, with a tint of anger in her voice.

"Do you think they will resort to that?"

"Non. Not really. Eet would look bad. Besides, we are not dependent on ze Ministry for funding. Zeir contributions 'ave never been ze lifeblood of ze school, but zat zey are willing to even threaten eet…"

"Yeah. I happened to have a very nice little lunch with some ministry officials today."

"Oh? Wanted your help squeezing me out, oui?" She asked darkly.

"They wanted my help to 'Nudge you in the right direction'" He said with air quotes. "I told them no."

"Who was it you met wiz?"

"I honestly don't remember the names of two of them. Silent types. One tall and bald, the other a bit taller horizontally than vertically, if you catch my meaning. But one was Monsieur Delacour, and the fellow doing the chatting was a bloke named Charles Goudeau. Know him?"

"Oui. 'e ees 'ead of Department of Education. Ze ozer two must be 'is lackeys. So, did zey offer you anyzing?"

"Not really. Didn't get around to that, I guess. I told them that I was only here temporary, and I have complete and utter faith in you. You have such pride in your school and students that it's almost infectious." He said with a smile. "It reminds me a bit of Dumbledore, really."

She grinned at that, and gave a short laugh. "I appreciate zat. 'e was a great man, Dumbledore. 'e ees missed." She was oddly quiet for a while, before going on. "But about your employment 'ere."

"You're not firing me, are you?" Harry asked nervously.

"Fire you? Ha! Non. I want to offer you a full time position. I 'ad planned to wait a bit, but now seems as good a time as any. I 'ave 'eard nozing but good zings from your students, and ze ozer proffeseurs speak highly of you as well. Eet seems you 'ave found your calling."

"I-" Harry swallowed, speechless for a moment as thoughts raced through his head. "I am honored. I didn't expect that, at all."

"Do not be so surprised, 'Arry! You 'ave passed my expectations! Ze students seem to respond to you."

"I donno. It's fantastic offer, but I don't know. I just never saw myself as a teacher, I suppose."

"Yet, you took ze job when eet was offered." Madame Maxime commented.

"Yeah. To be honest, it was probably just as much to get away for a while as it was for any desire to teach."

"I understand. You do not 'ave to give me any answer right away. Give eet some time, zink eet over, and give me your answer before end of year."

Harry thought that was a fair deal. "Ok. That sounds good. But about the Ministry. Should we worry?"

"Always, but not now." She said with genuine warmth as she looked at him. "Now. I 'ave been going over enough depressing topics for ze day. Let us 'ave some tea and talk of better zings, oui?"

With a wave of her wand, a tray with tea, cups, a kettle of boiling hot water, and a plate assorted pastries appeared. Harry, having left his lunch mostly uneaten, attacked the tasty fare with passion as they slipped into a relaxed conversation about teaching, Quidditch and even reminiscing about the triwizard tournament. Before leaving, sated with tea and cakes, Madame Maxime informed Harry that a meeting had been set with the Ministry and the School Board for next week, to discuss Harry's proposal to demonstrate and try to defend against the unforgivable curses. All in all, a slightly dark note to a splendid visit.


	8. Chapter Eight: The Hearing

**Author's Note:** I am sorry for the long wait. With work and other things coming in the way, there was little time for writing for a while. To add to that, I had a little trouble with the story. I have an idea of where I want the story to go, but not a clear path to get there. I hope you will enjoy this latest chapter, and I promise to update soon. Please, do not hesitate to give me feedback. And now, on to the story!

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 **Chapter Eight: The Hearing**

Gabrielle

For once, school could not start up again fast enough for Gabrielle. When Saturday dawned, she practically jumped out of bed to get ready. She took a long, hot bath, soaking in the scented water and feeling completely at ease. When she was done, she spent over an hour making sure her hair looked perfect, and applying her makeup. She usually had a much more relaxed view on getting dolled up, but her determination to catch Harry's eye made her put in the extra effort.

When she finally descended the stairs to the main floor, dressed in comfy pajamas, she found her parents seated around the dining table and waiting for her. The table held soups, toast, pastries, jams, cheeses, tea, coffee, fruit, and everything else needed for a proper family breakfast. When she took her seat, she got a raised eyebrow from her father as he took in her hair and makeup. Her mom gave her a knowing smile, but both of them had the good sense to not comment.

"Good morning, sweetheart." Her dad said, smiling, as he poured himself some coffee, added milk and two spoons of sugar.

"Morning. I thought you would be at work by now, Papa."

"And miss having breakfast with my little baby girl before she leaves us for months? Never." He said smiling warmly as he stirred his cup. "All packed and ready?"

"Yes. I packed last night. I just need to put on my uniform and I'm good to go."

They made small talk as they ate, and Gabrielle noted that her father was glancing at his watch every few minutes. A sure sign that he had an appointment and was nervous. He was telling them how he had won V.I.P tickets to the upcoming Quidditch match between France and Ireland for the semi-finals for the European Championship, when she just couldn't take him glancing at his watch every minute or so.

"I'm sorry, Papa, but do you have somewhere else to be?" she asked, a bit annoyed.

"Huh? Ah, not yet. Not yet. Not for a couple of hours yet." He said distracted.

"You keep looking at that damned watch so much, I'm starting to think I am bad company." She teased.

"No, no. It's just…"

"It's just what?" she asked, flashing him her most sweet and innocent pleading look, the very same that had gotten her almost anything she wanted since she was four. He sighed, glancing once more to his wrist.

"Alright. But this stays between us, yes?" She gave her nod of agreement, before he continued.

"So. You know my old friend, Charles Goudeau?"

"The Minister of Education, yes?"

"Well… He has been pestering me for weeks to facilitate a meeting, and I just know it's going to end… well, let's just say it is not going to be particularly pleasant."

Gabrielle frowned. "So? You are facilitating meetings, pleasant and unpleasant, all the time. What makes this different?"

Her dad took a deep sip of coffee, gave a huge sigh, and looked her right in the eyes.

"I can't tell you that, sweetheart. And no, do not try using that damned look of yours. It will not work. All I will say is that I have been asked to arrange a meeting with a man I respect, and I know may be resentful of the subterfuge." He waved his hand as to dismiss the entire topic. "Now, tell me about your extra classes. How long will you need them?"

The rest of breakfast was uneventful, and ended when her father got up, gave her a big hug, kissed her on the forehead and told her to behave, and write regularly. He then strode from the room, got his hat and travel cloak from the dumb-waiter in the hallway, and disappeared. Gabrielle went to her room, got dressed in her pristine uniform, gathered her luggage and met her mother downstairs, before heading out.

It was five hours later when she finally sat in the familiar carriage, drawn by the magnificent flying horses, chatting away with Sophie and Ella. She had visited her grandmother before heading off to school, as had been tradition since her first year, and spent some hours chatting away. She truly loved her grandparents, but for once, she had been glad to leave, as it meant she would be seeing _him_ again.

She had been distant and daydreaming the entire ride, making Ella annoyed with her when she hadn't laughed at one of her stories. She was still sulking as they entered the Great Hall, which was rapidly filling up with students. She found her seat, and allowed her eyes to wander over the teacher's table. He was sitting between Professors LeClair and Artoise, a huge grin plastered on his face as he listened to the potions Master. The sight of him made her heart flutter, and she felt a now familiar tingling in her stomach, and the beginnings of a blush on her cheeks.

He looked no worse for wear after his brush with death. Same handsome features, same messy hair, same smile, same emerald green eyes that seemed to draw you in, pulling you deeper and deeper, like drowning in a crystal clear pool. Those eyes that she dreamed about, looking down on her as she laid beneath him, feeling him fill her up as they shared in their intimate passion. Those eyes that would smile at you and melt away fear and doubt, with trust and confidence. Those sparkling emeralds that looked at her with such a look of… confusion? Amusement?

 _Shit!_ She had drifted off, daydreaming about those damned eyes, and hadn't noticed that she had been staring at him. What's even worse, he had looked back. Right into her eyes. She had just been sitting there, staring like a fucking idiot, too lost in her own thoughts to register that he had noticed, and was looking back. _How long have I just sat here? Oh no… He is going to think I am such a weirdo…. Oh my GOD! You are still looking you blasted moron! Look away! But don't make it obvious!_ Her inner voice was screaming at her. She looked up to the side, at nothing in particular, trying not to make it obvious she had been caught looking.

 _Smooth…. Very smooth you silly imbecile. Wow. Yeah, that chandelier is soooo noteworthy. NO ONE is ever gonna think twice about you looking at the freaking roof! Not strange at all!_ She felt like her cheeks were on fire as she looked back at the teacher's table. He was still looking at her, met her eyes, smiled, and turned back to his conversation. _Great. Just great. Some seductress you are._ Her inner voice admonished her. She let out a small groan and looked at the table, refusing to meet anyone's eyes, cursing herself under her breath.

"Ah, so that's it." Ella said, gleeful.

"That's what?" Sophie asked.

"That's why our dear Gabby has been spaced out. That's why she has gotten herself dolled up." She gave Gabrielle a nudge with her elbow. "She has been missing her boyfriend so terribly much"

"Shut. Up!" She hissed at her friend, but Ella just laughed, her previous annoyance at Gabrielle vanished.

Harry

The welcoming feast at Beauxbaton was truly stunning. The one thing that was a constant at the magical schools he had seen was that no expense was spared when it came to the feasts. Granted, he had only been to two, but that was one more than most wizards or witches ever saw. There was enough food to feed an army, with plenty left to spare, while the hall was decorated with ice sculptures and giant crystal snowflakes.

He seated at his customary seat next to Céline and René, sharing stories from the holidays. It was good to be able to share laughs with his new friends, and he realized that he had truly missed them. Even the dry humor of the Potions Master had been sorely missed. While they were talking, Harry kept feeling a slight sense of unease, that he had come to recognize as being watched. He allowed his eyes to wander over the assembled mass of students, searching and finding the culprit with ease.

Gabrielle Delacour was staring right at him, straight into his eyes. For a long few moments, he stared back, wondering just why she was looking at him so intently. Did he have something stuck in his teeth? Had the face of Voldemort suddenly materialized on his forehead? He had no good answers, but for some reason, he didn't look away. There was an almost unfocused quality to her brilliant blue eyes. As the moment dragged on, he felt an awkward smile spread on his lips. All of a sudden, a sharpness snapped into her eyes, and she quickly looked away, her neck snapping around so fast there was no doubt in Harry's mind that there would be a pulled muscle or two. He chuckled a bit, as she appeared to be studying a particularly fascinating spot on the roof. Her eyes flicked back to his after a moment, registering he was still looking at her, before darting to the table as a lovely shade of red blushed on her cheeks. With a chuckle and a shrug, he turned back to the conversation, telling them about his little duel at The Leaky Cauldron. He was in good spirits, and the weirdness of his student could do nothing to dismantle that.

The following Monday, as Harry opened the door between his bedroom and his office, he noticed a thick letter waiting for him at his desk. He recognized Madame Maxime's elegant hand right away, and broke the seal as he sat down, pulling out a number of different pages, in numerous different handwritings. He picked up the first page and read.

"Good Morning, Mr. Potter. Enclosed in this envelope, you will find letters from officials in the Ministry of Education, as well as several members of the School Board. I have had the letters translated for you, but allow me to save you some time. Half of them are infuriated by the request to use the Unforgivable curses for educational purposes, while the other half sees the recent problems in Britain, as well as the turmoil in Europe, as a good reason to arm our students with as much knowledge as possible. They have agreed to a meeting this coming Saturday, to discuss the issue. You will be given time to make your case, before questions and deliberations, and finally; votes will be cast. I strongly suggest you prepare yourself. We shall meet for dinner on Wednesday and Friday to discuss this further. For any questions, please do not hesitate to contact me.

Best Regards,  
Olympe Maxime"

Harry sighed. Great. A formal meeting slash inquisition. Just what he needed to spice up the weekend. He read a few of the included letters, but got little from them that Madame Maxime had not already relayed in her short note. He put them aside, vowing to get through them all later that evening. Feeling stressed and in need of _something_ , he strode over to the cupboard on the far wall, and grabbed his Firebolt from its resting place.

The polished wood felt smooth and warm to his touch, the familiar feel of it in his hands bringing back a flood of memories. Some of the best memories he had from Hogwarts was flying around the Quidditch pitch with his teammates, sharing laughs and jokes, snickering at Oliver Wood and his ever complicates schemes and plays. He longed for the feeling of freedom he had felt while soaring through the skies. It had been so long since he had used his broom that he felt guilty about it. He glanced at his watch, saw he had a couple of hours to spare before his classes, and made up his mind. With determined steps, he walked down the staircase, down the corridor, and out onto school grounds.

He had barely left the front steps before flinging himself onto the Firebolt, and kicking off with a pang of joy. The broom reacted immediately, shooting into the air like a rocket on New Year's Eve. The cold air beat against his face as the broom took him ever higher and further from the school building. He felt a laugh bubble up from his chest at the familiar string in his cheek and his nose. He slowed down, hovering midair, and taking in the view of the school and the grounds stretched out beneath him. The hedges and flowerbeds made an intricate pattern that was too massive in scale to be anything but breath taking. The surrounding mountains made a beautiful backdrop to the majestic building. He saw the Quidditch pitch in the distance behind the school, and with a grin, he leaned forward and squeezed every last bit of speed he could from the broom.

It was an hour and a half later when he walked back into his office, a huge grin plastered on his face, and frost red on his cheeks and nose. He had felt so alive while flying, the wind rushing through his hair, the coldness beating against his face, the numbness of his fingers around the broom, the feeling of sheer weightlessness as he spun in the air. It was all so fantastic. He made himself a promise to take at least an hour or two every weekend to maintain his flying skills. He sent for a tray of sandwiches instead of running down to the teachers table for a bite to eat, and as he enjoyed the food and a cup of steaming tea, he could hear the first trickle of students entering his classroom, talking excitedly amongst themselves.

His students had eagerly thrown themselves into the practice, eagerly honing their newfound dueling skills on each other. Spells flew, and the classroom resounded with shouted spell incantations, cries of shock and triumph, and the occasional string of harshly spoken French. Harry was still as close to mastering the French language as a goldfish was close to writing an opera, but cursing sounds the same in any language.

When Wednesday rolled around, Harry had read all the letters from the various board and ministry members, organized his thoughts and formulated a basic argument. He had taken great pride in his students after the holidays. Everyone had eagerly turned in their papers, and showed no signs of having forgotten the spells and techniques he had drilled into them. Even Gabrielle Delacour had shown a drastic improvement since Christmas. She was still somewhat flustered and unfocused at times, but she carried herself with a more confident pose as she slung spells. She was definitely getting better, but the lapses in her focus needed to be addressed. Harry knew all too well that a moment of distraction could get you killed in a nasty fight.

That evening he took his dinner with Madame Maxime in her office, discussing the coming meeting. She was a fountain of good ideas and wasn't afraid to point out any and all mistakes he had made in his reasoning. By the time Harry left to fetch his broom, and take it out for another spin, they had come up with a pretty good argument for his plan. To add to his joy, he had finally discovered the key to silent casting. He could do it with most spells he was familiar with now, but with more complex spells the results were varied.

He had stumbled upon the solution while re-reading a book he had been given by Shacklebolt when he joined the ranks of the Aurors. He had flipped though it at the time not thinking too much about the various concepts described, but when he had picked the book up on a whim on Tuesday evening, for some light bedtime reading (God, he started sounding more and more like Hermione by the day), the pieces of the puzzle had just fallen into place. He had read the whole book twice before catching a few hours of sleep. The very next day, he had found it prudent to loan the book to Miss Delacour, after her powers had manifested in blowing up a doll that was built and charmed to take a beating. Her powers were impressive, but she needed to learn to control it better.

Gabrielle

Her first week back at school after Christmas had flown by so quickly she should barely believe it. Professor Potter had complimented her on the rapid improvement she had shown. Ironically, that had made her lose focus and blow a practice dummy to smithereens. He had just chuckled at that, complimented her on her raw magical power, and assigned her a book from his own library to read about control and mental discipline. He had whispered conspiratorially into her ear that the book had even helped him improve his own skills when he first joined the Aurors.

She seated at her usual chair in the front of Professor Potter's classroom, chatting with Ella and Sophie while waiting for their last class of the week to start. The classroom looked different today. There were dozens of thick mats spread around the room, and on the blackboard behind the desk there was a message scribbled.

"Prepare yourselves. When the sand runs out, you will be attacked." Ella snorted. "What kind of craziness is that?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure there is some sort of lesson in it, somewhere." She replied. On the desk stood an ornamented hourglass, with sand running steadily down. The classroom was full now, the students chatting excitedly and wondering about the message on the blackboard. When the bell signifying start of class rang, the class fell silent, but no professor arrived. They remained in quiet suspense for five minutes. Then the muttering started. Had Professor Potter forgotten about them?

There were rumblings from the students now, some of them eyeing the hourglass wearily. The class all quieted down and watched the last grains of sand fall to the bottom with rapped attention. All but Sophie stared. She had her wand out and cast glances all around the room. When the last grain fell, it was so silent in the room that one could probably have heard a mouse fart on the other side of the chateau. It fell and the class held its breath, but nothing happened. They kept staring at the hourglass, as if it was about to suddenly transform into a roaring dragon. There were a few _thumps_ , but nothing was happening.

Ella turned towards her with a smirk on her face. "Well, that was exciting. Quite a brilliant joke he played on us, no? I'm sure he is up in his office, having quite the lau-" her words cut off suddenly, as she fell to the floor.

"Ella!" Gabrielle screamed, hunching down beside her friend, who laid motionless. All around her, hell erupted. Bodies dropped motionless to the floor, her classmates screamed and shouted, some running to the doors. One student tried frantically to open the door, but it was firmly locked. Sophie was beside her in an instant, standing protectively over her with wand drawn. Gabrielle drew her own, feeling silly for not doing so earlier. Red flashes struck out from nowhere, and when they hit a student, the person in question dropped to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut. A red bolt flashed right towards her, but before she could bring her wand to bear, Sophie was there in front of her, wand ready.

"Protego!" Sophie shouted, her shield charm popping up between them and the incoming bolt. As it hit the shield and dissipated, a loud voice boomed out.

"Very good, Miss Dubois! Very good indeed!". They looked around, and from out of nowhere, Harry Potter materialized, wand in hand. He was grinning from ear to ear as he approached them. With a few waves of his wand, the stunned students woke from their slumber, getting groggily to their feet. "You were the first one to draw your wand, and the only one that ignored the hourglass, instead spending your time searching the room! Very fine work indeed! Damn, I wish I could give you points!" He smiled.

He walked briskly to stand before his desk, took the hourglass in his free hand and turned to face them.

"You should all take note of Miss Dubois. She took the warning to heart. She prepared herself, and was the only one who kept focus. Again, very well done. The rest of you, remember this: Out there, if you have enemies, if you face witches or wizards who mean you harm, they will not leave you a warning and a timer. Constant vigilance, folks! Constant vigilance!"

"But eet was not a fair test! You were 'idden!" Ella accused, leaning a bit on Gabrielle as the grogginess cleared from her mind.

"When I faced Death Eaters, snatchers and Voldemort, they rarely gave me a fair fight." He said, petting the hourglass. There was gasps and intakes of air at the mention of the Dark Lord, but Harry didn't seem to care.

"Life in general is rarely fair and true fights of life and death least of all." He said as he sat down on the edge of his desk.

"Now, I know it's fun to hammer loose at one another with spells, trying to best your peers. But remember, this class has a real life use. We are not teaching you to duel, as much as we are teaching you to defend yourselves if the need should arise." He took a moment to let his words sink in. "Now, in the following weeks and months, the training will get more difficult. There is a lot to teach you in a compressed period of time, but I will do my damned best. That being said, we will have fun while learning. Now, pair up. I want to see those shield charms in action. I will be walking amongst you while you duel, and will cast a few spells your way from time to time. Keep your focus, and keep in mind you might suddenly face two opponents. Oh. And remember: Constant Vigilance."

The rest of the class was spent dueling, with the spontaneous appearance of Professor Potter to make things more difficult. She had been hit by one of Ella's spells while blocking a spell from Professor Potter. While Ella had laughed at her misfortune, she had been hit with the Jelly-Legs-Jinx and received a scolding reminder to be vigilant. That had made her smirk at her friend who triedd her best to keep her legs under her. When the class ended, on a much better note than it had started, she was once again asked to stay behind.

"So. About your private tutoring." He said, sitting down at a vacant desk. "Normally, we will start at noon, but I will be busy for a few hours tomorrow. So how about seven in the evening? Will that work for you?"

"Yes. Here?" She answered, feeling a slight blush in her cheeks and a fluttering of butterflies at his closeness.

"Yeah. You'll find me in my office. Just knock." He said with a smile and dismissed her.

Harry

Saturday came all too soon for Harry's taste. The planning session with Madame Maxime the evening before had done much to soothe his nerves, but he still felt a bit of unease. They had agreed to meet in her office at nine to take the floo network to the Ministry for their meeting. He barely ate during breakfast, but forced himself to finish his toast before heading out.

They arrived from a magnificently decorated fireplace with a plume of green fire. He looked around noting the elegance of the huge hall. There were carved pillars that rose from floor to ceiling and spaced amongst them were marble statues of wizards and witches. People were hurrying back and forth the various fireplaces erupting with green flashes as people arrived and departed.

Madame Maxime gave him a light nudge, that almost sent him sprawling to the floor, and took the lead. They entered a reception area where a wizard in a crisp uniform took their names and asked for their reason of visit before producing two visitor badges with their names on them. They were then pointed to a row of gilded elevators.

They arrived at the fifth floor, home to the Ministry of Education, with over half an hour to spare for their meeting. They were greeted by a polite, young functionary who lead them to the assigned meeting room asking them if they needed some refreshments before bowing respectfully to Madame Maxime and leaving.

"Helpful young lad." Harry commented just to fill in the silence.

"Yes. 'E was one of ze best students to graduate two years back. Pierre DuMont. Wasted on ziz, but 'e ees ambitious." She said, while taking a seat. The room was eerily similar to a court room. There was a long desk at the far end, with a dozen chairs to each side of the central chair. There was even a gavel placed in front of the central chair. Facing the imposing desk, was a far smaller one, with two chairs. One was obviously meant for Madame Maxime, as it was scaled for her above average large frame.

"Sooo. This looks menacing." He said, taking her seat next to her.

"Oui, but do not let eet get to you. Eet eez ze Minister's way of trying to get us off balance, and to showcase 'is power." She sighed. "'e 'as always been a bit arrogant, but 'e ees a good administrator."

They chatted idly for a bit before a door behind the long desk opened up. A procession of people walked in, headed by none other than Charles Goudeau himself. Madame Maxime and Harry stood as they entered and waited while the crowd filed in. Mr. Goudeau took his seat, fished a stack of parchment from somewhere, and waited for the others to sit. Harry noted that the witches and wizards that were clearly ministry officials seated themselves to the right of Goudeau, while what must be the members of the School Board seated themselves to the left.

Monsieur Goudeau cleared his throat, took the gavel and banged it against the wooden block whose job it was to take such abuse. He spoke in a clear voice full of authority, and alas: In French. Harry thought he got the gist of it. "We call this meeting to discuss the suggestion of this lunatic of an Englishman to torture his students, bla bla bla…" that kind of thing. He knew better than to ask Madame Maxime for a translation, risking interruption and seeming rude. Time dragged on as the Minister for Education introduced the officials and the members of board, Madame Maxime and Harry, and for all he knew the teapot.

When introductions were out of the way, he droned on, supposedly about the issue at hand. After what seemed like hours, he finally gave the word to Madame Maxime, who stood up and addressed the crowd. Never in his life had Harry wished to be fluent in French more than that very moment. He silently cursed himself and vowed to get LeClair to tutor him.

When his name was finally called, he almost jumped at the shock of hearing English spoken.

"Monsieur Potter. We will now hear from you. Be aware that your words will be transcribed for posterity." Monsieur Goudeau said, banging his gavel against the poor block of wood again. Harry rose to his feet, feeling how they protested stiffly after sitting so long.

"Ladies and Gentlemen. I will be brief as I believe Madame Maxime has made quite the elegant argument for our case." He nodded to the Headmistress, who smiled in return.

"Now, I was hired to teach the cream of French youth to defend themselves. The storm is brewing out there, and while I have full confidence that the Ministry will do its optimum to stand against the darkness, it is of outmost importance that we prepare our students in the best ways possible. We must prepare them to stand fast in the defense of themselves, their families, their friends, and their nation." He stepped around the desk and allowed his eyes to meet each representative in turn.

"As I said, I have every confidence in the Ministry to withstand the threats against it, but I ask you: Is not the ministry, and the people it is sworn to protect, better served if we arm our youth with the tools they need to defend themselves? Is it not in our best interest to show them the dangers that lurks in the shadows, so that, Merlin forbid, should they be faced with those dangers, they will know what they are facing, and know how to fight against it? I ask you, do your children, your grandchildren, not deserve the best education possible?" He spread his hands out, inviting them to agree or disagree.

"I was hired to train our children to defend themselves, and so I will. And I intend to do so whole-heartedly. I intend to arm them with the knowledge to stand against those who would do them harm. Now, I know it is not an easy thing to ask, to allow an exception to be made as to allow the demonstration of the Unforgivable Curses. I can only hope that you see the need, as I do. As Madame Maxime does. I have known her a short time, but in that time, I have come to respect her immensely. She lives and breathes for her school, her students, and she would never, under any circumstance allow harm to come to them. With the exception of the Imperius Curse, I ask that I be allowed to show the true horror one can face. And in the case of the Imperius Curse, it is my hope that you will allow me to train the students so that they may be able to resist it. Thank you." He gave a bow and returned to his seat, taking an offered glass of water from Madame Maxime, who beamed at him.

"Very well, we will now open for questions." Monsieur Goudeau said, repeating his words in French.

A thin and ancient looking wizard to the right fixed Harry with his gaze and asked in heavily accented French.

"Monsieur Potter. Surely I 'eard you wrong? Resisting ze Imperius Curse? Impossible!"

Harry gave a nod to acknowledge the man.

"Monsieur DeVorie. I am not saying that they will be able to break the hold of the curse, but given sufficient training, they may- MAY, be able to resist it."

"'e ees right. Eet can be done." A ministry official chimed in, earning a stern glare from Monsieur Goudeau. "Ze Aurors train to do eet, wiz great success." The man plowed on, meeting the Minister's stare.

"'ow will we safeguard against ze students being under Monsieur Potter's control?" a Ministry witch asked, breaking the silence that had fallen.

"Zat is a good point!" Monsieur Goudeau said, leaping at the topic. "No offence to you, but zere are a risk involved, non?"

Before Harry could answer, Madame Maxime rose, silenced the minister with a look and said.

"Ladies and Gentlemen. Surely, zere ees no doubt as to Harry Potter's dedication to fight against the Dark Arts. 'Ave 'e not proven 'imself for years? And eef 'is track record, and my guarantees, ees not enough, 'ave a member of ze board monitor ze classes in which ze curse will be used, but do not slander my teacher wiz unfounded accusations and implications." Her voice was calm and low, but carried unmistakable notes of authority and implied threat. It was obvious that her love for school and students also extended to her staff.

There was a dead silence for a moment, while the Minister of Education opened and closed his mouth, as if searching for words. Harry saw several of the school board members, and a few of the ministry officials smile. Monsieur Goudeau finally seemed to find his words, swallowed nervously, and cleared his throat.

"Yes, of course. No offence was given, Monsieur Potter. I apologize if one was taken."

"None at all, Minister. Caution is a generally good thing." He said smiling.

The discussion got back on track, and even got pretty heated, with a bunch of people shouting over each other to be heard. There were fists shaken, heads nodding, and rapid French being fired back and forth. Madame Maxime participated where she felt it necessary, or to answer any questions. Now and then, a question would be directed to him, and he answered as best he could. At some point trays of food and drink had appeared and the arguments became a tad more hushed as people helped themselves to the refreshments, before it blossomed into full volume again. He lost completely track of time as they argued.

Eventually, Monsieur Goudeau banged his gavel and called for silence. The discussion quieted down after a few moments, then the minister called for a vote. Madame Maxime raised her hand, as did most of the board, and a few ministry officials. When the vote for opposed was called, Harry's heart sank as he counted the votes. They were tied. This called for a new round of discussions and a new vote.

It was the fourth vote when there was finally a resolution. A very sour looking Monsieur Goudeau banged his gavel against the block once more and announced the verdict. The proposal had passed, by a very fine margin. The minister stomped out of the room as soon as the meeting was called to an end and Harry was introduced to a dozen different people by a smiling Madame Maxime.

Later, as they were safely back at her office, sinking into her comfortable chairs, and in Harry's case hoping to high heaven he never had to do that again, Madame Maxime chuckled.

"I must say 'Arry. You did very well back zere. You could 'ave made a fine politician." She laughed.

"You'll forgive me, Madame, if I disagree. I hate the entire notion. I much prefer action to endless debate." He said yawning. Madame Maxime fixed him with a serious look, and gave him a genuine smile.

"Perhaps that would make you a much better politician zan you zhink."


End file.
